


Don't Threaten Me with a Goodemethyd Time

by rpdr_plague



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: (weed), Angst, Anxiety Disorder, F/F, Heidi and Aiden are cottage lesbians and you can't take that away from me, IT'S GAY, Light Dom/sub, Phone Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Road Trips, Set in Missouri, Sexting, Smut, Strap-Ons, crystal is a hyperqueen, crystal is chaotic good, dom!gigi, genderfluid!gigi, hyperqueen, intimacy issues, small town, sub!crystal, well Gigi exhibits a lot of symptoms...shh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:53:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25144978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rpdr_plague/pseuds/rpdr_plague
Summary: Gigi is Crystal's favourite audience member"'It’s usually, uh, a few dates before someone sees me without lashes.' Crystal was blunt, but blushing lightly.Gigi felt a heat rise over her neck, cursing internally. She hated what she looked like blushing, it wasn't the flattering liveliness she saw on Crystal, but a patchy flush. She took great pains for an even skin tone. Her reply was probably harsher for it as she inspected her nail beds evasively, avoiding her reflection. 'People don’t like to see it come off, right? Ruins the fantasy.'"
Relationships: Gigi Goode/Crystal Methyd
Comments: 35
Kudos: 98





	1. Womanizer

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in a long time and a brand new ao3 account! Just couldn't resist writing some goodemethyd (or, as you heathens insist, 'crygi'). Have fun, leave comments and kudos if you enjoy :)) You can find me @rpdr.is.a.plague.and.im.a.rat on insta <3

Gigi didn’t remember at what point the night had tipped over from fun to claustrophobic nightmare, but right now her feet hurt in her altogether too ambitious heels, not to mention she could barely move in her tight orange dress. She had been driving all day—it was supposed to be Dahlia’s shift but apparently she had some desperately important wig styling to do in the back of the RV. The lights were on a never-ending purple to red colour wave, at once so vivid it made her head spin and too heavy to adequately illuminate the space. Even the wall of bottles in front of her blurred worryingly under her unfocused gaze. Her hands shook slightly as she clung to her glass, condensation forming and acrylics straining against her vice grip. She wanted this to be over. She started running through an exit plan— _surely it’s a fire hazard if can’t see a way out from here_ —

'Gigi! Giiiiiiiigiiiii! Geeg!'

Dahlia had found her, apparently unaffected by the taller woman’s sensory overload. 

'She’s on now! Come on—'

Dahlia pushed her black curls aside, stiff with hairspray and glittering with a few choice rhinestones—Gigi had rolled her eyes 'This is Springfield, Dahli.' 'And they better watch out too! I’ll slay a hometown girl, no questions asked.'—glancing up at her friend in annoyance.

'Come on we’ll miss the first…'

She trailed off as she realised Gigi’s tense demeanour

'Hey, are you feeling ok? I’m kind of getting a vibe.'

Gigi felt like her lungs had stopped working as she stiffened reflexively.

'What? Yeah, no, I’m…'

It was too much effort right now, her protests were clipped and no doubt sounded canned—Dahlia would see right through it.

'You’re doing that thing, where your posture is so perfect that you look like you're adjusting to a buttplug and you can’t string a sentence together even though I normally can’t get you to shut up.'

'It’s called social withdrawal.' Her voice came out harsh. Gigi doubted her friend could hear her, she was almost whispering. She felt like she was dangerously close to dropping her glass, she felt cold and hot all at once, a little unsteady— _why did I wear this dress?_

'Come on girl.' Dahlia’s voice was softer as she stood tiptoed to make eye contact. 'You need to get out of your head. Aja found this girl on Instagram, she’s supposed to be amazing. Sickening mug. I mean, nothing on me,' Gigi rolled her eyes and Dahlia hit her playfully in triumphant response.

'Ah! See! You are still in there. Come on. We can probably still catch the number.' 

Gigi exhaled slowly.

'You telling me you put on lashes and everything and you’re not even going to try and get laid? I'm overtaking you right now.'

Gigi laughed a little, feeling more grounded. She was glad she was making this trip into the middle of nowhere with Dahlia. She set her glass down on the bar.

'Ok. Let’s see her.'

'Yes! Let’s slay a small town girl!' 

Reinvigorated, Dahlia pulled Gigi towards the back of the club, where a raised platform was acting as a stage. Dahlia linked arms with her confidently, 'I gotchu. I know you can’t walk in this Miss Thing.' 'Worth it.', striding over and pushing towards the front of the small but enthusiastic crowd. 

The first thing Gigi noticed was her makeup. It was bordering on clownish, but the eye-shape was feminine and the lines crisp. She hadn’t expected to see such inventive drag here, let alone a woman in a powder blue Rococo costume breaking it down to Britney Spears’ ‘Womaniser’. This trip had really opened up her view of the national drag scene, questioning Valentina's assertion that LA was 'the centre of the universe'. The good look at her face was brief, the woman turning around to work the crowd. 

'She’s killing this!' Dahlia yelled, tipsy enough to lose all volume control. The performer spun at that, facing the two of them as she moved her hips, auburn ringlets bouncing. 

'Yes!' Dahlia waved her tip, clearly living. She focused her attention on Gigi, slowing down her walk, her sleek pumps hitting the stage powerfully. She made eye contact as she dropped seductively, reaching out for the crumpled tip Gigi hadn’t noticed Dahlia push into her outstretched hand. Gigi knew she was grinning now, the performer had so much energy. The woman tugged on the bill, smiling. _Is she pulling me up with her?_ Gigi could see the glitter on her lids, picked up by the warm lights, as she stepped forward commandingly. Gigi leaned into the force, stumbling slightly as the performer plucked the bill, turning quickly to take another tip from a man beside her. _Oh. I guess not_. Gigi took several steps back, embarrassed, but Dahlia stopped her. 'Chill—I love this song!'

'What was her name?' Gigi asked when the number ended, the woman beaming proudly and giving one last toss of her immaculately styled hair. 

'Uh...Meth? Crystal? Like a drug thing or something.'

'Her name cannot be ‘Meth’, Dahlia.'

Dahlia eyed Gigi carefully. 'Go ask her yourself.'

'What?'

'Come on girl. It was good but it wasn’t that good.'

Gigi looked a little stunned. _I can’t just follow her into the dressing room, that would be so creepy._

'Hey! Womanizer!' Dahlia yelled after the performer.

'What are you doing—' Gigi hissed, composing herself as the woman turned around.

'Yeah?' The woman was still panting from her number, her voice was high pitched. _Is she always smiling?_

Dahlia pushed Gigi out in front of her. 'She wanted to say hi. Great number!'

'Thank you! I was really feeling it tonight.' She shimmied as she spoke, the ruffles on her costume swaying.

'You must be really tired—' 

'No no, I love making new friends!' She had a really, really infectious smile. Gigi watched how her wig bobbed with her excitement.

'See?' Dahlia practically shouted into Gigi’s ear. 'I’m gonnnna go now.'

'You do that.' Gigi said through gritted teeth.

'I love your rhinestones by the way!' The performer was smiling at Dahlia. Oh God, she would probably rather be alone with—

'See Gigi??? Slayed.' Dahlia was clearly attempting some kind of hair flip, but the hair-spray stiffened weave didn’t budge. She leaned in, not-so-quietly-whispering at Gigi 'I won't tell. Well I will, I’m kind of texting Nicky right now.' She winked, spinning around to find herself someone to dance with, heels clacking dully over the music. 

'Seriously I don’t want to bother you. Dahlia likes to think she’s a prime wing-woman but she totally doesn't know how to read a room or like...read, period. Especially when drunk.' Gigi could feel herself blushing under her foundation. Fucking Dahlia.

'Don’t worry! I’m still pepped up with post-performance adrenaline.' Gigi couldn't imagine the woman was ever not pepped up. Crystal settled onto a bar stool, which was for some obscene reason covered in neon faux fur, motioning for Gigi to follow with a glittering hand.

'What’s your name?' She asked, unsuccessfully disguising a giggle as Gigi struggled to hoist herself up in her stiff dress.

'Gigi. Gigi Goode. With an ‘e’.' _Why did I say that so loudly?_ She tried to regain composure. 

'I’m Crystal Elizabeth Methyd.'

'Please. Your name is not a drug-based pun.'

'Ok, well, no. Names are strange. My friends call me the dancing diva. Crystal is real!'

'Well, that’s pretty. And Elizabet—'

'Where’s the ‘e’?' 

'What?'

'The silent ‘e’?'

'I—after Goode.'

Crystal seemed to think about it for a second as if picturing the ‘e’ slotting in place. 'Thank you for clearing that up.'

Gigi was a little taken aback. This woman was operating on her own wavelength, and she couldn’t say it wasn’t compelling. _Did she really think I’d buy that her name was Crystal Methyd?_

'Where do you live?'

'Sorry?' 

'I haven’t seen you here before. I do this gig all the time and I know the regulars. I assumed you were from...I don't know, a big city? Your friend was turning a look.'

_So was I, there are like two thousand buttons on this thing._

'Yes, I’m road tripping right now. I live in LA.'

'City of Angels.' 

Gigi snorted. 'Is that a pick-up line?'

'No! Oh, but it could’ve been...wait lemme try….uhmmm.' 

Gigi smiled bemusedly, leaning in to hear the other woman better. She noticed how her teeth would catch slightly on her lip when she was thinking. It was endearing, the way she seemed not to have a filter with her movements and expression. It was adorable.

'Ok, I’m ready.' Crystal fixed a dramatic look on her face, looking up from under her stacked lashes. 'Did it hurt?'

Gigi rolled her eyes, laughing softly. 'So inventive.'

'When you tumbled down the Hollywood hills?'

'....Ok, I’m going to give you about five seconds to recover so we can pretend that senseless embarrassment did not just come out of your mouth.'

'No fair.' Was she pouting? 'I am realllllly tired, you know.'

Gigi looked down ashamedly. 'I’m so sorry, you probably just want to get paid and go home.'

Crystal laughed 'It’s cute that you think I’m getting paid anything but tips. But don’t worry I just…' She tugged at her wig line, wincing.

'Headache?' Gigi asked sympathetically. All the driving had been giving her migraine auras recently, and the obnoxious music and lights weren’t helping.

'You too?'

'A little.' Gigi admitted. 'It’s...loud.'

'It is a bar. Hey—I hope this isn’t weird but like...I really want to get out of these drags.'

'Oh, ok.' Dahlia would take a real ego hit if the evening ended here.

'You can, like...come with me? If you like? It’s quiet backstage.' 

'It says staff only.' Gigi protested quietly, squashing a smile at the tentative nervousness betrayed by Crystal’s voice.

'I hereby promote you to...staff!' Crystal leapt up.

This time Crystal was the one holding out her hand.

She pulled them through the door. Gigi would be lying if she said she didn’t get a tiny thrill from rule-breaking, even though this was a pretty lame infraction of bar policy. She was always hanging out in back rooms in LA bars, but they felt more like home. 

Crystal turned to fiddle with a rickety doorknob, letting go of Gigi’s hand in the process. Gigi self-consciously noticed how clammy it was, stiffly clasping it with her other manicured hand, letting the nails dig in slightly to steel herself. _I wonder how many girls she takes back here._

Crystal spun without warning. 'Lower your expectations right now ok?'

Gigi stared at her blankly, alarmed. _Is this going to be another lesbian teaching moment?_

'It’s nothing fancy.' 

_Oh_. Gigi blushed at where her mind had gone so quickly. Spending so much time around Dahlia on the road was clearly clouding her judgement in that regard. She’s probably just waiting for me to leave.

Crystal swung the door open to reveal an ample storage closet, cleaning supplies stacked up under a clothing rack of costumes. A mirror hung over a small table that could probably only seat one, covered in glitter. 

'Glamourous, I know.'

Gigi smiled. It was affirming to see how invested in performing Crystal must be, having to get ready in here. Even though most of them weren't LA-born, a lot of artists there took their access for granted. It was a bit stuffy though, she couldn’t imagine more than four people crammed in at once. Crystal let her stumble in first before tugging off her pumps and collapsing in front of the mirror. Gigi took silent, delighting stock of their height difference without heels. Crystal began scrubbing at her face. _That cannot be good for her skin._

'Ugh, this sharpie is always the hardest to get off.'

'You use a sharpie!?'

'I’m a committed hyperqueen, deal with it.'

'Your makeup is...crazy.' Gigi cringed internally at the dumb remark—she was in awe of the other woman’s skill and versatility, her beat was unique and Gigi wanted nothing more than to watch her apply it, slowly, watch the magic moments where the fantasy came alive—what was it for her? Blush? Lashes?

'She’s a gorgeous woman, thank you very much.'

'...Sure.' Again. Gigi had officially lost tonal control. She hoped Crystal didn’t take her fumbling the wrong way.

'Hmph. Define woman for me, Miss Goode.'

'I wouldn’t know. I’m fluid.'

Gigi exhaled sharply, making sure to keep her face unchanged as she battled with a little surge of adrenaline. She had come out to a few friends and her mother, but her body went into full fight or flight at the prospect of telling someone new. She had no idea what had made her blurt it out so quickly, and she desperately fixed her gaze on Crystal’s reflection, searching for a reaction. 

Crystal didn’t skip a beat. 'That’s cool!'

Gigi grinned. She had a sudden urge to stand closer to Crystal, their distance in the small room clashing with the intimacy of the moment. She caught herself in the mirror— _God I look stupid when I do that_ —and quieted her features. First impressions and all that, and she didn’t want to come off giddy.

'For the record, if you’re looking for a definition of woman—' Crystal hoisted off her wig piece, which Gigi realised was blended into her real curls. She took down her pinned hair, shaking out the tight ringlets 'This is it.' She flipped her hair and cocked her head to the side, blue contacts striking Gigi as she made deliberate eye contact, red lips slightly parted...before descending into giggles. 'See! Flawless. Perfect.' She turned back to her mirror, scrubbing determinedly at her stubborn glitter-lip.

Gigi was a little speechless. She had never talked to someone who could run their mouth longer than her, and she felt like she had just witnessed 20 emotions at once—each a little more endearing than the last. 

She looked up to see Crystal performing some impressive gymnastics. She jumped, trying to reach her back, leaning over the table, scrambling at her costume’s lace ties. She sounded like a small mouse, exerting itself on a wheel. 

'Is that lace-up?'

'It’s a period piece!' 

Gigi couldn’t help but laugh. 'It’s covered in glitter…'

'Artis—ugh—artistic license...uHgh.' Crystal turned to face Gigi, embodying a wounded puppy, her eyes shining.

'Are you...crying?' Gigi asked incredulously.

'I’m frustrated!' Crystal laughed a little, aware of how bizarre her overactive tear ducts could come across 'And I’ve been reusing these contacts for like a month.' 

'That cannot be sanitary.'

'Would you give me a hand?'

'Uh…' _Relax, she’s probably wearing about 12 layers of padding_

'I mean you don’t have to, but you could be here all night. I’m...not very flexible.' Crystal flopped a hand awkwardly over her shoulder, to demonstrate.

'I thought your friends called you the ‘dancing diva’?' 

'That……….was not true—please?' 

Gigi looked down at her acrylics, stalling. Why did she feel so nervous? She helped her friends de-drag all the time, and with her costume design experience, she was no stranger to intricate knots. 

'Ok.'

'Yay!'

Crystal turned around, watching Gigi in the mirror with a strange intensity. Gigi averted her eyes quickly. _I’m just projecting_. She approached Crystal and began working at the blue velvet laces, feeling her body heat under her manicured fingers. She tried to control her breathing, hyperconscious of exhaling onto the other woman's slender neck. The silence grew heavy, all she could hear was Crystal's breathing and the scrape of her nails against the glitter grain of the fabric.

'You’re good with knots?' Crystal spoke quietly as if to preserve the atmosphere.

'I—yeah I...I sew a lot.' Why did I say that so loudly? Gigi looked up absently, a little flustered, making eye contact with Crystal's reflection that she had been avoiding. She felt the sudden need to break the silence, she was feeling overwhelmed in the small room, undressing a beautiful stranger. 

'I really like your makeup.' Her throat had gone dry, and the compliment came out raspier than she had intended.

'It’s gorgeous right? You can never have too much glitter.' 

Gigi smiled bemusedly at Crystal’s enthusiastic self-confidence, refocusing her attention on the laces. _How did she get them so tight?_

'No such thing as too much—Yes! I did it! Look!'

Gigi tugged on the loosened costume, slightly embarrassed to find no undergarments but the straps of a yellow, lacy bra. Crystal had a sprinkling of brown freckles on her warm skin. _I wonder if she has the moles she draws on her face?_

'Thank you, Miss Goode.' Gigi laughed a little nervously. She knew the other woman was joking, she had no way of knowing about her work in LA under that name. Still, the name had quite an effect on her. 

'You’re welcome, Crystal Elizabeth Methyd.' Crystal looked at her curiously in the glass, reaching around to hold her open costume in place. Her hands brushed Gigi’s, who quickly stuck them at her sides at the touch, stiffening.

'It’s usually, uh, a few dates before someone sees me without lashes.' Crystal was blunt, but blushing lightly. 

Gigi felt a heat rise over her neck, cursing internally. She hated what she looked like blushing, it wasn't the flattering liveliness she saw on Crystal, but a patchy flush. She took great pains for an even skin tone. Her reply was probably harsher for it as she inspected her nail beds evasively, avoiding her reflection. 'People don’t like to see it come off, right? Ruins the fantasy.' 

'Does it?' Crystal turned around to face her, cocking her head curiously. She looked like a small bird, her voice almost a squeak. 

_Her lips are covered in glitter_. Gigi was staring. Crystal made that unbroken eye-contact again, allegedly old contacts demanding Gigi’s attention, mesmerizing her. 

_Is this happening?_

Gigi flicked her gaze back up to Crystal’s eyes. 'You’re going to get glitter all over my face.'

'Is that a problem?'

She paused. Gigi knew she could be restrained; careful. But Crystal had been surprising her all night. _Isn’t this what I’m here for?_

'I think I’ll manage.' 

Gigi leaned in, taking control of the kiss. Crystal responded quickly—she was warm and pliant, and the grain of glitter caught slightly on Gigi’s lips as she pushed her tongue into the other woman's willing mouth. She moved a hand up to cup her jaw, letting her nails dig into her soft cheek, leaving indents. Crystal hissed into her mouth at the sensation, pulling Gigi towards her, hands sliding up and down Gigi’s impressively trained waist. Gigi didn’t like her partners to touch her first. Not this early. She wanted to explore Crystal, undo her completely while she remained composed, powerful. She lifted Crystal’s hands from her own waist, pushing them up and over her head to pin her to the mirror.

'Is this ok?' Gigi scanned Crystal’s reddened face, looking into her blown-out pupils, framed by already wild hair, looking for a compliant response. To her carefully concealed delight, Crystal whined. 

'Y-yeah...Gigi—'

'Good.' Gigi kissed her hungrily, emboldened by the airy whines escaping her partner. She bit down on her lip, tugging at Crystal’s hair before pulling back and releasing her wrists, to Crystal’s audible displeasure. 

'Take this off.'

Crystal looked up at her, maintaining eye-contact as she pulled down the stiff costume, letting it fall around her hips. She reached out to pull Gigi’s face towards her but she stopped her, grabbing her wrist. 

'I want to watch.' Gigi worked to keep a tremor out of her voice. 

Crystal raised a thin eyebrow. 'Ok.'

She stood up, pushing the costume down her hips and knees, letting it crumple on the floor. She took a shaky breath, trying to channel the confidence of performance. It was made easier when she flicked her eyes up to Gigi, who was watching her in rapture, eyes roaming up and down her frame. She pulled at the waistband of her tights, snapping them against her hip bone accidentally. Gigi almost gasped at the sound, biting down hard on her tongue to remain composed. Crystal blushed deeply but continued sliding them off slowly, fighting the urge to look away. She lifted her leg to peel the nylon off her calf, elbow bumping awkwardly into the table.

'There’s really...no way to do this gracefully.'

Gigi lifted her eyes from the other woman’s slender legs, vague annoyance playing on her face. 

'Do you need me to do it for you?'

Crystal gulped. She didn’t, but she’d be lying if she wouldn’t rather have Gigi do it.

'Use your words, baby.' Gigi could feel herself slip more naturally into the role, feeding off of Crystal’s obedience.

'Yes.' Crystal’s voice was breathy as Gigi approached her, crossing the small space until she was inches away from her face. She let her fingers scrape lightly down Crystal’s tan skin, leaving goosebumps as she followed suit, kneeling down. Her hands were cold against Crystal’s almost feverishly hot thighs, sliding down the smooth skin until she reached the tights, clinging slightly with sweat. She looked up at Crystal as she pulled them off roughly, watching her gasp at the sudden movement. 

'Can I?' She asked, nails toying with the lace of Crystal panties. They matched the yellow bra. _Cute._

'Would you?' Crystal smiled nervously, exhaling the tension.

'Ask nicely,' Gigi said evenly, almost absent-mindedly stroking the slick fabric between her legs. Crystal stifled a moan at the touch, moving her hips involuntarily to seek the friction.

'Please...Gigi…'

Gigi smiled to herself, hooking a finger under the waistband of the underwear and moving to place her lips against the front of her crotch. 

'It’s Miss Goode, ok?' 

Her mouth was hot and wet as she pressed the flat of her tongue to the fabric, earning a whimper of anticipation from her partner. Gigi tugged on the lace, flicking her tongue against the top of her exposed slit while her fingers stayed sliding at her entrance methodically. She pulled the underwear down, tilting her head to find Crystal’s clit. Her tongue continued to work while she popped off a few acrylics, fingers returning to ghost over her entrance. 

Crystal was moaning above her, hands travelling up to grip her own neck. _Interesting_. Gigi pushed a finger just past the tight muscle, pressing into the other woman, quickening the pace of her tongue. Hearing Crystal gasp, she sucked briefly over her clit, pushing her to a moan. She was glad she hadn’t worn lip gloss. She was amused to hear a quiet stream of 'Yeah, yeah…', almost under her breath, flowing from the woman above her. Crystal clenched her thighs around Gigi, her voice getting—impossibly—more high pitched. _Greedy_. 

Gigi pulled Crystal’s legs over her shoulders, sucking mercilessly on her clit as she maneuvered her against the mirror. She slapped her upper thigh, hard, letting Crystal feel the sting of it; the shock.

At this angle, Gigi was almost level with Crystal’s panting mouth as she stole another kiss, rougher this time, letting her teeth bite down lightly on her lower lip. Crystal leaned in desperately, and Gigi took full advantage of her eagerness, pushing her fingers between her parted lips. Crystal’s eyes widened in surprise as she sucked around them reflexively. 

'Come on baby, get them ready for me.' 

Gigi moved to kiss Crystal’s neck, the other woman hitting the mirror as she tilted her head back for access. Gigi sucked on the skin she had admired earlier, aiming to leave a memory of the encounter behind for the other woman. She’d always liked marking her partners, and the desire overtook her as Crystal diligently swirled her tongue around her fingers. Gigi pulled them out suddenly, wiping the spit from Crystal’s chin affectionately with a swipe of her thumb. She watched Crystal screw her eyes shut as she moved to press the slick fingers insider her, letting them dance at her entrance while her thumb grazed her clit in circular motions. 

'Fuck, Gigi—'

Gigi pushed up at that, into the thrust of Crystal's hips, not bothering to stretch her out as she scissored mercilessly. 'What was that?' She asked darkly, lips at the sensitive skin below her ear, talking over Crystal’s broken cry.

'M-miss Goode, please.'

Gigi smiled against the other woman’s neck as she began to fuck her more slowly, curling her fingers into her wetness. 

'Better.'

Crystal’s thighs began to clench around Gigi’s fingers as she added a third, her high-pitched noises escalating. Gigi deftly unhooked her bra with her free hand, returning quickly to focus on her clit, drawing her closer. She bit at the skin of her neck, moving down to her breasts. 

'Miss I—I’m gonna...fuck…'

Crystal came with her hands tangled in Gigi’s glossy hair, fogging up the mirror behind her as she moved with the sensation. 

Gigi pulled back, bringing her coated fingers up to Crystal’s mouth. 

'Clean it up.' Her voice was soft but harsh as she watched the other woman’s enthusiastic compliance in slight awe. She looked gorgeous like this, still coming down from her orgasm, licking herself off Gigi’s fingers. 

'Oh my god,' Crystal said, breathlessly, when Gigi was satisfied. She laughed, giddy. 'You’re fully fucking clothed, Gi—I mean, Miss Goode.'

Gigi broke into a smile, smoothing down her hair with her comparatively cleaner hand.

'You don’t have to keep calling me that. I hope it was...ok.'

‘Miss Goode. With an ‘e’. Sounds like a lesbian boarding school teacher from like, the 1940s that...I don’t know...moonlights as a burlesque dancer?’

'I—I dom in LA under it.' It was ludicrous that Gigi was nervous to divulge that when she’d just had her fingers knuckle deep inside her, but she stared down at her heels regardless— _When did I get that scuff? Fucking PVC._

'Really? That’s...I didn’t really see that for you.'

Gigi looked up, alarmed, but there was no judgement on Crystal’s face. 'Yeah I—I picked up some classes to work through a lot of...hesitancy and powerlessness in sex.'

Crystal nodded, looking around the room. _I was right. She doesn’t stop smiling._

'Can you believe I’ve never been fucked in here?' 

'No. Not for a second.'

Crystal hit her playfully as she hopped down from the table, pulling a floral jumpsuit from the small rack. 

'How long are you here?' She asked, examining her sullied panties, choosing regretfully to abandon them. Lost cause.

'I—' She was cut off by her phone ringing loudly. Well, blasting Dua Lipa would be a more accurate description. She whipped it out absentmindedly, checking for Dahlia’s name. Crystal looked impressed. 

'That has pockets?' She whispered. Gigi concealed a proud smile, shrugging.

'Yeah—yeah; she’s...lovely.' Gigi blushed. Flushed. 'Did you just call me to check up on the hookup you facilitated?'

She watched Crystal attempt to fix her freshly-fucked hair in the mirror, not fully listening to Dahlia’s slightly slurred rambling until—

'What? No, we can’t...are you serious? Bitch. Ok, I...yeah, I’ll be right out.'

Crystal looked at her concernedly as she hung up, acrylic dully hitting the screen. _A flip phone would be much more appropriately dramatic._

'That didn’t sound fun, fresh or feminine.' 

Gigi sighed, a numbness spreading through her hands as she focused on her breathing.  
'Our Airbnb just fell through. And we can’t sleep in the RV because someone—' She glared down at the phone, blaming it entirely for her own mistake, '—may have done something that necessitated a visit to an overnight mechanic. Do you like...know a motel or…?'

Crystal shook her head. 'I only come out into the city for gigs, I’m not that familiar.'

She stepped closer to Gigi, not wanting her to freak out. She grabbed her hand reflexively. Gigi knew she was trying to be comforting but she felt a surge of panic at the affection. _What does she think this was? What the fuck am I going to do?_

She felt the room around her sway. _Was it this small the whole time?_

'Woah, woah—hey, it’ll be ok.' Crystal was helping her onto an upturned milk crate, her voice soothing. She brushed Gigi’s lips with the pad of her thumb, moving to tuck her hair behind her ear. _Classic_. Gigi knew she was being needlessly cynical, cringing at the automatic thought. Crystal bit her lip, her brows furrowing.

'Look, I know that we kind of just met…'

'And fucked.' Gigi knew she sounded harsh when she was stressed; blunt and cold.

'Yeah, that too, but like...Is it just you and...rhinestoned wing woman?'

Gigi snorted despite herself. _Wow, I guess she was right about rhinestones' impact._ 'Dahlia? Yeah. We have—Oh god.' Gigi placed her head in her hands, nursing a drill-like headache.

'What?' Crystal sounded fragile like she was genuinely distressed at Gigi’s upset.

'Nothing, just...all our shit’s in the RV. Dahlia was going to pick up some bags and take them to the BnB but I doubt she remembered.'

Crystal let out a slow stream of air, steeling herself.

'I mean if it’s just one night...I live in a sharehouse, it’s only about forty-five minutes from here. We don’t have a spare room but the couch pulls out.'

'Oh no, Crystal, I wouldn’t want to impose.' Gigi said automatically, cursing herself for not taking this lifeline from this very cute girl.

'Hey! I’m offering, Gigi. People crash with us all the time. The girls would love you. Or...well, your fashion. And I…' Crystal looked nervous, but instead of averting her eyes, she looked straight at Gigi, running a hand over her hair in what seemed to be a calming gesture for her.  
'I like you. And I know you’ll be going soon. And there isn’t always a lot of gorgeous fashion designer road-tripping queer people here.'

Gigi didn’t know what to say. What came out was: 'I’d hardly call myself a designer.' _She’s so sweet. Stop leading her on and say ‘no’._ But her feet hurt, and Dahlia would be drunk and lost, and Crystal had tasted so sweet...What was wrong with a little midwestern kindness?

'That...that would be a dream, Crystal. Thank you. We’ll pay you for the stay.' Crystal let out an excited squeal at a pitch that probably alerted several neighbourhood dogs. She wrapped her arms around Gigi’s waist, kissing her quickly as if she was afraid Gigi was about to turn and run. 'Don’t be ridiculous,' She said, clasping Gigi’s hand. 'I’m sure we’ll, uh, work out some other way you can repay me?' She tugged on her hair, giggling. Gigi smiled weakly as Crystal pulled her up and led her out of the room, guilt pooling in her stomach. _It’s ok. It’s just one night. She knows you’re leaving soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading ! love yall


	2. Can We Keep Her?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Gigi stays the night, ft. the Get Dusted girls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you sm to my beta @chaesrosies ! You're an angel.

Dahlia was, of course, unable to wipe a smirk off of her already resting-bitch-face-prone mug when she saw Crystal leading Gigi into the bar by the hand. _Clock the missing acrylics._

'Hey, Womanizer!' _Clock the queen’s complete costume change._

'I’m sorry?' Crystal’s eyes flickered to Gigi, who looked like she wanted to die on the spot and quite possibly haunt Dahlia from beyond the grave.

'Your performance. Womanizer? I’m using it as a stand-in because I don’t know your name yet. Oh, and you also seduced the fuck out of Gigi—'

' _Crystal_ here has kindly offered to let us crash at her house.' 

'You have a house? Gigi, did I just hook you up with a sugar mommy?' Gigi shook her head in slight disbelief at her friend. In LA, having a house was fully making it.

Crystal laughed, squeezing Gigi’s hand. _It’s ok_. 'It’s just a sharehouse.'

Gigi turned to Crystal, a distinct pain in her chest that was probably showing all over her face. 'She meant ‘thank you.’’

'I was gettin’ there! Thank you. Seriously. Like so much.'

'You’re welcome!' Crystal’s smile was a little forced, at least Gigi thought it was. She hoped she wasn't already regretting her invitation. 'I’ll just go bring the car around, yeah?' She gave Gigi an affectionate peck on the cheek as she left. _It. Is. Ok. She’s probably a little drunk or something._ Dahlia was snickering. 

'What?' _I shouldn’t be scowling, she was my rhinestoned wing-woman after all._

'Nothing…'

'Well in that case—’

'You just look pretty well fucked.'

Gigi picked at her exposed nails, 'I’m a dom top.' 

'Girl, bye.' Dahlia poked her tongue out as she squawked a laugh. Gigi couldn’t help but smile. She was a fucking bitch who couldn’t drive for shit, but she was glad to be here with Dahlia. _As long as she doesn't want to ask too many questions about Crystal._

Gigi bit her lip, regretting her coldness. 'I love you. You know that, right?'

'...Gigi…' She looked concerned. Dahlia was a fucking bitch who couldn’t drive for shit, but also gorgeous, which had the unfortunate side effect of constantly assuming that:

'Oh my god for the last time Dahlia I’m not in love with you—'

'I forgot to pick up the shit from the RV.' Dahlia blurted out, wincing.

She didn’t know whether it was the tension of the night up to meeting Crystal, the power surge of domming, the resolution of sexual frustration that had been building up since she hooked up with that woman in Atlanta ( _Veronica? Viola? She had left her on read, it wasn’t like she was coming back any time soon_ ) or Crystal’s almost absurd level of affection after only knowing her for, what, an hour? But Gigi was laughing. With a reckless abandon that was normally reserved for 2am, barefaced, face-timing Jaida or Heidi. 

'I know.' Gigi reached out to steady herself on Dahlia’s caramel arm, feeling the slight grease of makeup—Dahlia covered up with a mixture of cheap foundation and body glitter when she went out. She threw her head back, for the first time that day feeling like she didn’t give a fuck who saw her looking a fool. 

Until Crystal walked back in. Then she gave quite a few fucks. She froze, hand flying up to finger-comb her brunette waves as she avoided eye contact with the approaching woman. 

Dahlia leaned into Gigi, whispering 'Does she ever stop smiling?'

Gigi shook her head slightly, staring. 

'Hi again! Oh, Miss Goode, your hair looks so cute down!'

She elbowed Dahlia, who was actively sniggering.

'You ready to meet my friends or what?' Crystal waved a set of jangling keys, several glittery, neon key-chains catching the low lights.

As the woman followed, Dahlia mouthed to Gigi: '‘Miss Goode’?'

'...Shut up.' Gigi mumbled, staring down at her nails, gnawing on her long-gone lipstick. She took a shaky breath and followed Crystal out of the thinning crowd.

Dahlia was riding in the back, which she had readily volunteered for. She had given Crystal an encouraging wink while Gigi was climbing into the passenger side, for which Crystal had exchanged a bashful but grateful grin. She made a point of pulling out her phone, not wanting to interfere with any lesbianism that might serendipitously occur.

little sin 👅: they totally fucked  
N I C K Y 💋: You concern me.  
little sin 👅: stfu you would be dead bored w/o this lesbian saga  
N I C K Y 💋: ...Maybe.  
N I C K Y 💋: Keep me posted yes.  
little sin 👅: on it ;)

Gigi was studying the pale skin of her thigh, sneaking looks at Crystal as the car bumped over the road. It was so Crystal, the car. A little beat up, bright blue, tiny. Could’ve passed for a clown car, really, round and anthropomorphic, humming a little too loudly. A familiar song halted her buzzing thoughts— _Is this One Direction? Do people still listen to One Direction?_

She looked over at Crystal, an eyebrow raised, but she was charmed almost immediately by her bopping, a breathy falsetto, completely off-key, quietly audible as she lip-synced enthusiastically. Gigi was normally a little repulsed by childishness, but there was something about Crystal’s earnest enthusiasm and brimming self-confidence that was captivating. She wanted to get inside her head, see what cogs were turning that let her live unfiltered. _Don’t get carried away, Gigi. In a month you won’t even remember her name. Just like...Violet! It was Violet._ Gigi let herself feel the truth of it, the sting. 

She opened her eyes to see Crystal staring at her, reaching out to hold her cold hand. She rubbed over the erratic tips of the bare nails, sending an uncomfortable sensation through Gigi at the pressure on the newly exposed skin.

'Hey...are you ok?' _Will people ever stop asking me that?_

Gigi slowly unhooked her hand, moving to tuck her hair behind her ear. 

'Yeah. Just tired.'

Crystal nodded, earnest concern spread over her features as she turned back to the wheel.

'Do you want me to distract you?' Gigi suppressed a dry laugh. _A distraction indeed._

'I’ll take that as a yes. I uh...I’ll tell you about my friends? Yeah. Yeah, you’ll have the upper hand on names and everything.'

'I’m good with names.'

'She is.' Dahlia piped up from the back, smacking her gum. 

'Good, ok so there’s...uh, well there are three cats first of all. And there’s Daegen, she’s a literal legend. Daya does hair, she’s gorgeous—like so, so stunning. She’s always borrowing my wigs and returning them like 10 times better than before. She wanted to be a paleontologist when she was little and, uh, has some weird theories. Lux; Lux is the baby. She’d probably tell you I’m baby but that is blatant propaganda. She’s like, loli and everything. Like, if you’re looking for sex toys in a pastel colourway, she’s your woman. Not that we, uh, share. That would be weird.'

Dahlia snorted.

'Uhm...she’s also better at makeup than me, which is so rude considering I’m the drag queen and she draws on two-dimensional tablets all day. Graphic design but she’s totally good enough to do visual art full time. Just maybe, uh, not in Missouri.'

'They sound great.'

'They’re the most important things in the world to me. The cats I mean. The girls are great too, I guess.'

Gigi laughed a little too loudly for the small car, nerves tousling her stomach.

'I can’t wait for you to meet them,' Crystal said softly, catching her eyes in the mirror.

'It feels like I’m meeting your parents or something.'

Dahlia glanced up at her, her face unreadable. She shook her head slightly, returning to her phone. Gigi knew she was making Crystal uncomfortable. She wished she could shut up, stop treading all over her affectionate sweetness.

'Oh, uh, I mean, you can if you want? That’s part of the reason we’re all still here. That and being a little broke. I love being close to them.'

'Gigi and her mom are practically inseparable.' Dahlia offered, looking at Gigi with what might have been a hostile glare, but also might have just been Dahlia’s goddamn face.

'Yeah?' Crystal visibly lightened up, shooting Dahlia a grateful smile in the rear-view.

'Uh, yeah, she…she taught me to sew. I consult her a lot on projects. It’s cliche but she’s like...my best friend.' 

'Hey!' Dahlia teased from the backseat, barely looking up from her phone.

'You heard me! You might be a wing woman but there is no competition with my mom. None.'

Crystal was giggling, obviously feeding off of Gigi’s more relaxed state. _If I can just keep this up—_

'Ok! We’re here! ' Crystal swerved somewhat violently into a driveway pulling up to a small house. There was a large pride flag visible against the front window, and the letterbox was covered in polka dots. It was cute. It was Crystal. It was all very, very Crystal.

Gigi felt a familiar feeling of nervousness wash over her as she approached the door. It all felt too...claustrophobic. The RV, this town, Crystal’s hand over hers. She was going to stay at her house. After just meeting her. After just—

As if sensing her discomfort, Crystal squeezed Gigi’s hand as she rang the doorbell, which blared what sounded like a distorted version of the first few bars of ‘Rhythm of the Night’, and gave her an encouraging smile. _Fuck._

Crystal jumped into action, dropping her keys onto a shelf adorned with various tchotchkes, stray makeup and jewellery; no doubt collected over years of thrifting and general disorganisation. She almost ran down the hallway, attacking a tall, pale woman with a structured, 1940’s hairstyle contrasting grungy, smoked out eyeliner and her distressed band tee, fishnets and black shorts. Her skin was smooth as cream, and Gigi realised that this must be Daya. Crystal pulled her into an enthusiastic hug and began talking excitedly, a flurry of 'the crowd' and 'this fucking costume'— _and hopefully not 'this hookup'._

Dahlia sauntered in cooly, returning a wave from the short woman relaxing into an antique dining chair, the nicest out of a mismatched group of IKEA, wicker and thrifted furniture.

Gigi felt frozen in the doorframe, watching the scene around her unfold with a deep-seated sense of detachment. New people were intimidating on the best of days, this particular day had already taken a near-head-on collision, surviving in a crowded bar and...well, Crystal.

The interior of the house was truly a sight to behold. The chaos of housing four women, creatives no less, was evident. Paintings, drawings, posters and tapestries lined the walls while a patchwork of rugs covered every square inch of the hardwood floors. It smelled like fresh cookies and vodka. A small blonde thing was hunched over a drawing tablet, sitting cross-legged on the pink, plush couch. Her face was twisted in concentration, and her pastel-purple acrylics hit the screen dully as she worked. A tabby cat stretched and purred in her lap, vying for her attention. It looked like it was going to be disappointed. 

The woman in the dining chair loudly dropped her phone onto the table, absent-mindedly finger-combing her straight, pink hair to reveal dazzling highlighter. Gigi heard her strangely muffled voice introduce herself to Dahlia. 

‘I’m Daegan. Are you some more of Crystal’s strays?’ 

‘More?’ Dahlia asked incredulously, adjusting the ruching of her dress.

‘Hey!’ Crystal yelled, breaking her hug with Daya, who seemed relieved at the opportunity to breathe, ‘Widow didn’t even stay the night!’

'I’m flattered.' Dahlia waved, stepping forward.

‘Hi Flattered, I’m Dad.’ Daya muttered as if acting on some sort of instinctual dad-joke drive. Dahlia appeared not to hear.

'I’m Dahlia. This is your friend’s new girlfriend, Gigi. We’ve been rudely abandoned by Airbnb.' 

Crystal shook her head, 'Capitalism.'

'That’s what I’ve been saying!' 

Gigi heard her name pulling herself into the conversation, but she stayed firmly in the doorway. It was hot, a temperature she was sure would be pleasantly warm if she wasn’t anxious enough to rip her hair out from the root. What's worse was that the stares of all five women expectantly waiting for a quip that would establish her as likable, as worthy of their friend, as not just a stuck up LA fashion princess who was probably going to end up ghosting Crystal when she started sending ‘Goode morning’ texts—

'Gigi’s not actually Crystal’s girlfriend. It’s just wild that she’s still single because she...has so much to offer!’ 

Gigi felt the flush grip her, the awkwardness of the moment freezing time around her. If it hadn’t been so nail-bitingly unbearable, Gigi would’ve laughed. She knew Dahlia was trying to help, but this was a new low.

‘Yeah! Like, uh, she designs clothes!’ Crystal was apparently joining the rescue effort. Gigi didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. ‘She made this whole thing. It has pockets! And she’s...she’s really pretty.’

Daegan snorted. The girl on the couch, Lux, looked up curiously. Gigi thought about what Crystal had said in the car, and agreed, she definitely was the baby of the group. She could see the lolita aesthetic in her ruffled prairies dress, pastel pink ribbons twisting up her delicate arms. _And yet she still manages to be more self-possessed than me._

‘You design stuff?’ The cat, clearly giving up, jumped down from her lap indignantly. 

‘Uh, yeah.’ Gigi could feel her sweaty palms sticking to the buttons of her dress as she fidgeted under the group’s impatient gaze.

‘I’m...I’m taking a fashion design course, but most of my experience is in theatrical costume design. Fashion is so fun, it’s so important to me it’s...well not to be cliche but it’s kind of a universal language? In that, the garments are visibly communicable but also that every piece, every outfit tells a story. It’s everyday self-expression and…’ _Why can’t I just stop talking—_

Gigi trailed off as Lux started to laugh. ‘D’you wanna take a seat?’ She patted the sagging couch next to her, carefully sliding her tablet into a pink vinyl case. Gigi smiled gratefully, almost running over to talk fashion with the smaller girl, who was pulling out her phone because ‘Wait I totally follow you on Instagram...I do wearable art too! Here I’ll show you...’

After a few minutes of fangirling over Lux’s art—‘Stylish and sapphic? Not what the world deserves but what it needs.’—Crystal drifted over to the couch, taking a visibly nervous Daya with her. 

‘Look!’ Dahlia hissed, in what Gigi was sure she thought was a discreet manner. She pointed at Crystal, whose fingers were indeed inching over to Gigi’s, blunt nails catching on the fraying cushion. Daegan swatted her manicured hand out of the air, coming up with the brilliant distraction: ‘Did you say you brought weed?’

Dahlia downed her drink— _who in their right mind had given her another drink?_ —and gulped, pulling a bag out of her bra. That shook the whole group into hysterics. Gigi’s cheeks burned as she stared down at her lap, blocking out Crystal’s pathetically outstretched hand in the corner of her vision. _Patiently, it’s patiently outstretched. She is being nice and normal. You're the one freaking out—_

'It’s legal if I got it in California!' Dahlia screeched, shaking the bag at Daegen delightedly.

'Crystal, can we keep her?' 

Dahlia stuck her tongue out, reaching for the lighter Daegan had instantly produced. Sometimes Gigi wished she could be as calm and charismatic as her friend. She never seemed out of her element with new people, already Gigi could see her settling into the scene around her as if she hung out with these girls every other night. Gigi had always been, at best, the intimidating one, and, at worst, the one awkwardly excused from showing up because she didn’t feel completely capable of leaving her apartment. The only time she ever felt confident, really, was when she was working. When she knew for a fact that she was doing what she did best, and doing it perfectly. _Oh, and during sex. That’s fucked up, isn't it?_

A few minutes later, Gigi was forced back into the moment as Lux grinned at her mischievously, addressing Crystal who had now received the joint. 

‘Are you drunk enough to kiss Gigi with that?’

‘Luxie literally who asked you—’

‘Shhhhhhhhh Daya. Let’s make it a dare. Yes. A fine idea. Crystal? I dare you.’

Crystal laughed nervously, gingerly holding the joint between her soft fingers, looking up at Gigi for a response.

‘I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable…’

‘Don’t worry! You’re not!’ Daegan practically yelled, pushing Dahlia lightly back into the sofa to get a clearer view.

Crystal slowly raised the joint to her lips, challenging Gigi with a look from under her thick lashes. She ran her free hand over her hair to smooth it down, her palm curling around her neck to steady herself as she came tantalisingly closer.

‘What are we, in high school?’ Gigi cursed how strained and nervous her voice was.

Crystal leaned in, seemingly resolved. ‘Are we not? I’m picking you last for cheer squads so no-one suspects our lesbionage.’

Gigi laughed quietly, warming to the attention. _I can do this._ Lux squealed excitedly as Gigi’s lips connected with the head of the joint, Crystal’s hand instinctively moving up to gently guide her jaw. Gigi inhaled thickly, mouth ghosting over the redhead’s, letting the moment stretch out luxuriously.

‘Leave some for us!’ Daegan was cackling as she held her phone up, her acrylics scraping the glass as she zoomed in. 

‘Send that to me!’ Dahlia demanded, ducking out of the shot.

‘That was so cute!’ Lux’s laugh was delightfully on brand, an excitable chime. 

Gigi pulled back quickly, exhaling sharply, bracing herself for a surge of repulsion at her own eagerness. They had just met, her friends were just messing around. There was a curious clarity in letting Crystal cloud her judgement, and she craved for her to empty her mind all over again, whatever the consequences. 

‘Water?’ Crystal asked. Gigi nodded gratefully, squeezing her hand, which had wandered to her waist. Crystal bobbed up, her hair bouncing as she crossed the room to the kitchen and its assortment of chairs.

Daya, who had been quiet save for her reception of Crystal, smiled encouragingly at Gigi. 

‘It’s been a while since Crystal brought someone back here.’ She said, softly. ‘Someone she likes, I mean.’ Gigi felt her throat tighten as she smiled weakly, trying to oust the crawling sensation spreading over her bare forearms. She felt uneasily certain that the girls could read her mind, that they could sense the surprising depth of her attraction to Crystal. She wanted to leave. She wanted to be alone. She felt so wrong in a room full of open, raw, loving people. Crystal worst was of all, so sweet and spontaneous, so brave and trusting. She was struggling to breathe.

‘How long are you here for?’ Asked Daegan.

‘As long as it takes for that guy to fix our RV.’ Dahlia replied, taking the onus off of Gigi. 

‘Oof. That is relatable.’ Daegan winced.

‘We tried to road trip once up to New York.’ Daya explained, suppressing laughter.

‘...And?’

‘Crystal drove.’ Daegen said as if that explained everything. Which it kind of did. 

‘I did what now? Is this about the time I saved that opossum in Atlanta?’ Crystal handed a cup of water to Gigi, who almost spit it out laughing. And just like that, Crystal had diffused her tension again, hooking the silk-clad leg of her jumpsuit over Gigi’s lap, her tight, tan calf visible as the fabric rode up. The cup was blue plastic, with a smiling cactus drawn on with a sharpie. 

‘...almost flipping over Widow’s van and killing all of us in the process?’ Daegan flipped her hair over her shoulder, giving Dahlia a look that said: _This is what I have to deal with._

‘It was a really cute opossum.’ Lux offered.

The girls were surprisingly easy to get along with. Gigi didn’t want to inflate its importance, but the whole joint thing had felt like a hazing ritual. It was like the girls wanted to test Gigi’s ability to display a little public affection towards Crystal. Gigi couldn’t help feeling watched as if they could all tell she wasn’t worth trusting with their friend. _I’m projecting._

All sense of time was lost on Gigi as she oscillated between her own vicious thoughts and the group before her, called back to Crystal’s living room by an effort by Dahlia to include her, or Daya’s rare but loveable laugh, or, most frequently, Crystal's gentle, roaming hands. At one point, Mexican was ordered and consumed, Lux showed off a light that changed cyclically from blue, to pink, to purple, to green, Daya produced wigs for Dahlia to ogle; to blue, Lux insisted on sketching Gigi; to pink, Crystal was getting heavy-lidded, leaning into Gigi with abandon, curling like the cat that had lovingly reconciled with Lux; to purple, to green.

Whenever a lull fell upon the group, Crystal seemed to make it her personal mission to pep everyone up again. She had been delectable at the bar, but here, in her element and surrounded by her friends an even more kooky, confident woman emerged. Gigi watched her in awe, a fresh warmth settling on her as she saw Crystal genuinely try including her. Even as mercurial time and intimidating people created an insurmountable challenge, it was sweet of her to try.

Her first attempt had been asking, out of absolutely nowhere, ‘Ok you guys, which historical figure would you most want to have sex with?’

‘Probably...like, Obama.’ Dahlia offered as if to remind everyone that she was very much high. It earned her a chorus of laughter.

‘Dahlia…’ Gigi choked out, ‘He’s alive.’

‘And? He’s historical Gigi! Are you telling me the first Black president wasn’t historical? WAS THAT NOT A MOMENT FOR YOU?’

‘I...what—’

‘What about you, Daya?’ Dahlia asked, glaring at Gigi as she doubled over, wheezing.

‘Cleopatra. One-hundred per cent. She’s a badass.’

Lux thought about it for a second, ‘Sappho. Or Emily Dickinson. Imagine getting such good head that she writes a landmark poem about it.’ She smiled wickedly, a gesture Gigi was quickly coming to dread. ‘Daegen wants to fuck Stalin.’ She practically hooted with glee.

‘I do not! He was a mass murderer.’

‘Young Stalin, then. With just the bank-robbing infractions.’, Lux shot back.

Daegen let out a noise of strained protest. ‘Crystal wants to fuck Audrey Hepburn! That’s just as bad!’

Crystal shrugged. ‘She’s beautiful. And actually dead.’

‘Cleopatra is super dead!’ Daya chimed in.

‘Are we sure about that?’ Crystal tapped the side of her head knowingly.

‘Yes Crystal, I’m really sure about that.’

‘You don’t think the dinosaurs went extinct, Daya.’ Lux shot back, ever the instigator. 

‘Ok, but there is some very compelling evidence in my forums—’

‘Gigi?’ Crystal cut Daya off as if she had had this debate over dinosaur extinction many, many times.

Gigi shrugged, lungs collapsing under the pressure of the question; of Crystal’s direct gaze. _How does she do that?_ Gigi was embarrassed to admit that she still hadn’t seemed to master the intimacy of eye contact. ‘Audrey Hepburn is a good choice.’ 

‘No!’ Dahlia protested. ‘She’s taken.’

‘Do not impose monogamy on my relationship with Audrey Hepburn! We could totally add a third!’ 

‘Gigi knows all about that.’ Dahlia laughed into her phone screen as if she hadn’t just piqued the interest of the whole group with a throw-away remark.

‘You into threesomes?’ Lux asked. ‘Not that I’m offering. Wouldn’t want to let down Emily Dickinson.’

‘I, uh…’ _Not to be dramatic, but I think Crystal’s burning my flesh off with her fucking eyes._

Something unreadable flashed across Crystal’s face as she whipped her neck around to look at Dahlia, asking, too quietly, ‘Wait, are you two…?’

‘No! No girl. We don’t share. Not that she wants my guys anyway. I mean, she teaches threesomes.’ 

Gigi wanted to melt right into the corduroy of the couch. Dahlia was managing to dig a gaping hole in this conversation. Gigi liked to control when people found out about what had become a double life for her in LA. She was still new to owning her work in front of new people, and she knew first hand how it could radically alter people’s perception of her. Suddenly, they would want a fantasy—some confident leather-clad sexpot, not a sweating, mousy brunette. 

‘You teach them?’ Lux asked incredulously. She really was a little evil.

Gigi knew she was being asked to elaborate—for the first time that night, the group seemed to be genuinely hanging on her every word, but she felt frozen, displaced again from the blue, pink, purple, green room by their expectations. Crystal must have caught on by now, because she wrapped an arm around Gigi’s waist, leaning in patiently as if to block out the rest of the interrogatory faces.

‘I—I teach domming workshops and stuff sometimes. For groups, couples, whatever. Kink stuff.’ Crystal was smiling encouragingly. Gigi felt her touch sear like she had fallen into hot coals. This time, she didn’t have a glass to break.

‘Believe me, you wouldn’t think she was qualified to teach anything if you knew her dating history.’ Gigi wanted to lunge across the couch and drag Dahlia out by her rhinestoned hair. She knew she was just inebriated, that she was just trying to let Crystal’s friends into their dynamic, that she just needed to sober up, but it didn’t matter. Gigi felt the air leave the room, compressing her like vacuum-sealed plastic.

‘What?’

Anyone could have said it, Crystal, even. Gigi could feel the sting of her eyes filling, independent of her control; from exhaustion, from anxiety, from frustration—she didn’t know which, she just knew she couldn’t be here a second longer. She couldn’t take a dissection right now. She didn’t want to be exposed and questioned and challenged for how she lived her life, leaving a string of women behind only to show up and teach ‘healthy sexual dynamics’ to total strangers, knowing she couldn’t deal with the slimy feeling of being wanted while feeling worthless.

‘I’m going to the bathroom.’ Gigi breathed through her grinding teeth.

‘Do you need me to show you…?’ Gigi heard Crystal ask as she left, her tone so painfully genuine. She jumped up so quickly the cat in Lux’s lap was rudely awoken, mewling an ambulance’s siren into the uncomfortable silence.

Gigi careened around the corner, feeling herself hyperventilate. She tugged on a door but found it locked. The next door led to a linen cupboard. Swearing loudly, Gigi sunk to the shag carpet, hearing some buttons pop off as she slid down the paint-splattered wall. She could hear the low hum of the girls in the other room, probably all rolling their eyes at her overreaction. Gigi had felt it earlier, in the bar, building. She had felt it on every stop along this trip, after every hook-up and set-up and blown-off second date. The feeling of being hot and cold all at once, the contradiction of a feverish sweat. 

She had to admit, this was a lot, even for her. There was just something about Crystal, she felt so helplessly desperate to come off as approachable and well-intentioned. Well, after she had let her fuck her brains out in that dressing room. Or was it after hearing her laugh at the bar on those gratuitous stools? Her hypnotising, fucking sexy performance? Seeing the first glint of a powder blue costume, bouncing red ringlets and a megawatt smile as Dahlia led her out of her spiral of self-pity and to the best and worst part of this trip so far? 

Gigi leant her head against the wall, feeling the migraine that had flared briefly, after Dahlia’s phone call, returned to drill against her brow-bone. She was hyper-aware of the blood surging through her body, hearing it in her ears as if forceful hands were clamped over them. She could see it: in her throat, through her heart, into her wrists and back around, swishing about her stomach, running down her thighs, through her ventricles again, swelling and pulsing at her temples. Her heartbeat drummed like thundering footsteps, closing in, crowding her.

‘Gigi?’ Crystal's voice, soft, to match her eyes, shining and framed by knitted brows, sounded out somewhere above her. Her long legs came into view as she bent over, filling Gigi’s field of vision completely with her rounded shoulders and wild, red hair. 

‘I, uh, I asked Dahlia to check on you and she..well she was kind of weird about it; said I should come instead. Is this...are you ok?’ 

Gigi fought to keep from visibly grimacing, knowing exactly why Dahlia would’ve sent Crystal after her—and cursing at how right she was; knowing she would do it all again. She ran a hand through her hair, feeling the uneven pressure of her bare nails and the remaining acrylics.

‘I’m ok. I just got a little...overwhelmed.’ 

Even from this distance, Gigi could feel the assertive presence of Crystal’s body. She seemed so worried. She had left them in the other room, had come to find her. 

‘I...I’m not going to lie, I’m not really sure what to do.’ Crystal said bluntly, running a hand over her hair in a fruitless attempt to smooth it out.

Gigi smiled. ‘Help me up?’

She watched Crystal’s bicep flex as she pulled her in, closer than was entirely necessary to complete the operation. Gigi tensed, holding the position, fixing her gaze on Crystal’s pink cheeks, on her freckled nose, on her arched brows, her plump lips—anywhere but her eyes. 

This close, feeling Crystal’s breath on her upper lip, Gigi felt the smoke curling into her mouth; remembered her head clearing as she lost herself in Crystal’s eager warmth. She remembered how Crystal had made her feel like they were the only two people in the room, how she had slowed her heart rate right down; had breathed clarity into her mouth. It was so much easier here, alone, with only Crystal’s expectations—Crystal, who was so easy to please, so perpetually enthused, so needy for her. She wanted that feeling again. The feeling of being needed by Crystal, shaking against her dressing room mirror. _Right now._

'They were getting loud down there.' Gigi whispered, moving up to Crystal’s ear.

‘Gigi, a-are you sure that you’re...you know...’ Crystal said, her voice faltering.

Gigi hummed into her neck, licking the shell of Crystal's ear, feeling Crystal squeeze her still clasped hands in response. 

‘Kiss me.’ 

She saw the confusion drain from Crystal’s eyes as she pulled back, waiting.

‘I missed this.’ Crystal moaned, surprising Gigi with her forcefulness. 

Not satisfied with Crystal leading, Gigi sucked on Crystal’s jaw and pushed her pliant frame against the wall in tandem, not even sure where she was leading them.

'M-my room?' 

Gigi nodded, but made no attempt to move, biting down on her own fading marks.

'They’ll...ah...they’ll be able to hear.'

Gigi looked up, ignoring Crystal’s whine. 'Will they? Well. You’re going to have to be very quiet.'

Crystal’s eyes went wide at that, and Gigi almost laughed at how earnestly she was reacting to her advances. She had a particular innocence about her. Whether or not it was indicative of her experience, it was as if every gesture of dominance on Gigi’s part was completely novel, as if she was realising a personal fantasy of total submission for the first time.

Crystal practically dragged Gigi into her room—her bed took up almost the entire space, the deep pink walls lined with the same assortment of posters and picture frames as could be seen downstairs. 

Crystal climbed eagerly onto the bed, lying on her back with her thighs spread for Gigi. She felt her breath come heavy, her blood rushing with the thrill of Crystal’s submission, like her life’s purpose was to open herself up for Gigi’s pleasure. She wondered if it had been building all night for her too, since she laid a hand on her thigh, since Lux’s stupid dare. She placed herself between Crystal's legs and reached out to rub her down through her jumpsuit, shivering as she remembered she wasn’t wearing panties, feeling her wetness. Crystal arched her back into the minuscule touch, practically panting for it. _Such a pillow princess._

‘Do you have a strap, baby?’ Gigi looked up from lidded eyes, adopting an even tone.

Crystal inhaled sharply, pointing at her bedside drawer and nodding vigorously as Gigi continued to stroke her. Gigi sat up to reach over, deliberately leaving Crystal to fumble in the draw. Crystal whined at the loss of contact, pressing herself against Gigi’s back and placing needy kisses all along her shoulder blades. Gigi laughed softly; murmuring, ‘So impatient.’ Crystal hummed her response, finding Gigi’s zipper and dragging it down her back with her teeth. Gigi bit back a gasp at the gesture, at the sensation of Crystal’s mouth running down her spine; so soft, so careful. It struck her that Crystal wanted to explore her body, wanted the dress off, wanted her skin flush with her own.

‘Oh, feeling brave are we?’ 

Crystal laughed, that airy, high-pitched melody, her lips at the nape of Gigi’s neck. Gigi leant back as her hands found the strap-on, twisting her neck to say, nonchalantly, ‘I’m going to have to fuck that out of you.’ 

Crystal froze at that, rearing up to catch her lips, but Gigi turned her attention back to the draw as if it was infinitely more interesting than the gorgeous woman begging for her dick behind her. It took a fair amount of concentration. 

‘What do we have here?’ Gigi pulled a pair of pink, fluffy hand-cuffs out of the draw, dangling them in amusement. _Beginners' cuffs? Interesting._ ‘Would you like me to cuff you to the bed while I fuck you?’

Crystal seemed to be entirely post-verbal, arching her back into the mattress and whining as she raised her wrists above her head, letting them hit the rail of the bed. 

‘Do you want to take that off first?’

Even as a smile curled at her lips, Gigi’s mouth went dry at her blatant eagerness, at how the very suggestion of submission had her riled up. Crystal blushed violently, pressing herself into Gigi as she leaned over her shoulder, letting her strip her of the garment. 

‘Can I please…?’ Crystal tugged on Gigi’s dress, already open in the back, peeling it off her shoulders.

Gigi shook her head, pushing her partner roughly onto the mattress to pull her jumpsuit off of her lean legs, eyes widening at her exposed inner thighs, her perfect pussy on display. Gigi wrenched her eyes from the sight, pushing her own dress down her thighs and delicately folding it, placing it gently on the floor. 

‘You—you’re...fuck.’ Crystal seemed to give up on her adoration, her wrists returning automatically to the headboard as if Gigi had pinned them in place with her gaze. 

‘I know,’ Gigi teased, not meeting her eyes as she pulled her panties off. Her hands shook slightly as she put on the cuffs, straddling Crystal but refusing to give her the friction she was rutting up for. _Greedy._ Gigi could feel her body thrumming with how earnestly Crystal was displaying her need without disobeying as if Gigi had completely unravelled her. She had to fight the desire to finger her, quick and fast; to make her quiver as she had against her dressing room table. She considered herself disciplined, and yet watching Crystal squeeze her thighs together helplessly was clouding her better judgement. 

Gigi pried her thighs apart forcefully, Crystal’s strangled cry of surprise reverberating between her own legs. She leaned over, kneading one of her partner’s bare breasts as she murmured, ‘Stop that.’

‘Y-yes Miss Goode.’ 

Gigi pinched her nipple as she drew back, knowing she was rushing as she buckled up the strap, pulling the harness taught around her prominent hip bones. She lined herself up, forcing Crystal’s thighs further to the mattress, her gleaming cunt spreading with them. Dizzy with the rush of power, of control, Gigi gripped the hilt of her dick, feeling the ridge slide against her clit. She generally preferred a strap that only pleasured her partner, wanting to remain in control, getting off on the illusion alone. And with Crystal like this, she didn’t know how long she would last. Despite herself, she reached two short-nailed fingers out to spread Crystal’s lips, applying light pressure to her clit and watching her spasm.

‘You ready for me?’ Gigi asked, employing every last scrap of self-control not to thrust into Crystal as she let her head nudge her opening.

‘Pl-please.’ Crystal let her head fall back, her cuffed hands curling into fists.

‘You have to stay quiet, remember.’ Gigi inched in, marvelling at the lack of resistance even without lube. _I did this to her._

Crystal nodded fervently, teeth sinking into her full bottom lip.

‘Are you going to behave?’ She was halfway in now, watching Crystal stretch around her cock, feeling the strap push back against her clit, blurring her vision.

Crystal squeezed her eyes tight, tearing up slightly with the frustration and tension and need.

‘Do you know how to behave?’ Gigi was completely inside her now, letting Crystal adjust. Crystal moaned in response, which was entirely insufficient. She rolled her hips, giving Crystal the full length of her cock. 

‘What was that?’

‘Y-yes Miss Goode. I’ll be...fuck...I’ll...I’ll s-stay quiet.’ Her voice shook as Gigi continued to thrust, not nearly deep enough to give Crystal the sensation she was begging for.

With that, Gigi couldn’t help herself. She hissed as she fucked into her, dragging out and pushing in rhythmically, hearing Crystal’s obscene wetness, her debauched whines escalating into high pitched moans. 

Gigi’s eyes roamed along Crystal’s body, watching the rise and fall of her breasts with each thrust, the beads of sweat forming on her smooth chest, her face contorted with pleasure, her fluttering eyelashes—right up to her strained arms, her cuffed hands flexing, blunt nails scraping against her palms as she moaned.

‘Fuck, Crystal.’ Gigi breathed, pushing deep into her as she clasped her hand over her partner's mouth. Crystal licked desperately at the obstruction, coaxing Gigi’s fingers to crook into her mouth, sucking and biting as Gigi brought her closer, closer still. Crystal let out what might have been a scream, the high pitched noise getting trapped in her throat by Gigi’s slick fingers as she nudged that spot right there, and in minutes Gigi was lifting her off the mattress slightly. Crystal’s knees threatened to buckle as Gigi fucked her relentlessly, hitting that spot inside her over and over.

Suddenly, with an obscene pop, Gigi pulled her fingers out of her slack mouth to rub circles on Crystal’s clit, wanting to make her come hard, to make Crystal dizzy with it. Crystal moaned unbridled, grinding down onto each of Gigi’s thrusts as best she could in cuffs until black spots filled her vision, her orgasm spasming through her, her fists clenching and unclenching with her thighs as she rode it out. 

Gigi bit down hard on her lip as she coaxed Crystal down from her climax, feeling her own building pressure— _this stupid fucking strap_ —clamour for resolution. Crystal whined, and Gigi sensed her oversensitivity, pulling out slowly.

‘Miss can...can you…’ Crystal rattled her wrists, and Gigi cursed the way the strap teased her clit as she leaned over to undo the cuffs. The second Crystal was free she captured Gigi’s lips in a messy, breathy kiss. 

‘I wanna suck you off.’ Gigi raised an eyebrow at that.

‘Do you think you were well-behaved enough for that?’ 

Crystal nodded so earnestly that Gigi almost laughed, her adorable conviction almost impossible to refuse. _Almost_. There was no particular harm in watching Crystal clean herself of her strap, it would certainly be demeaning.

Gigi rose up onto her knees, letting Crystal crouch in front of her and lick a stripe down her cock. She placed a gentle hand on her neck, not guiding but steadying, feeling Crystal’s shoulder-length red hair graze against her knuckles. As Crystal took her length, tasting herself as she drew back, hollowing her cheeks, her own hands moved to stroke Gigi’s hips, sending shivers up her whole body. Gigi opened her mouth to protest, to remind her of her place, but she only managed a gasp as Crystal deftly unbuckled the strap, letting the toy fall to the mattress. 

Immediately Crystal’s tongue was working her, licking along her slit before sucking on her clit, then, frantically, travelling to lap at her entrance. 

‘Crystal—’ Gigi’s voice was hoarse as she bucked into her mouth.

Her partner drew back quickly, swiping her wrist across her glistening mouth dejectedly.

‘Is this ok Miss?’ A Lux-like twinkle was playing in her eyes, which she widened innocently.

‘Don’t—well don’t fucking stop.’ Gigi hissed, clenching her thighs. She shot a hand out to fist Crystal’s hair, pulling her back and holding her in place.

Crystal slid her wet lips over Gigi’s clit—scant stimulation for how close she knew she was. 

‘Op-open your fucking mouth.’ Gigi groaned, guiding Crystal by her hair. Crystal complied, in keeping with her desperate obedience or simply sensing how much Gigi needed it, sucking and flicking with her tongue.

‘Fuck—fucking faster, god—’ Gigi forced Crystal back onto her heels, fucking her face desperately. At this angle, with Crystal letting Gigi use her like this, she didn’t last long. She came with a hoarse cry, her shaking hand twisted into Crystal’s frizzing hair.

Crystal grinned up at her as she unhooked her thighs, dismounting, flushed.

‘You fucking slut.’ 

Crystal laughed at that, running her hand over her thoroughly tousled hair. She rolled over, pulling Gigi to lie down beside her.

‘I got to see you this time.’ Crystal was smiling peacefully, playing with a sweat-slicked strand of Gigi’s glossy hair.

Gigi let out a dry laugh, suppressing the tendrils of panic already encroaching on her consciousness as her head cleared, her intoxication with Crystal leaving her system as quickly as it had flooded it.

‘You’re welcome.’ 

Crystal huffed, and, to Gigi’s faint horror, hooked a strong leg over her own, pulling Gigi into an embrace.

‘What are you doing?’ Gigi muttered, fighting the post-orgasm desire to melt into the contact.

‘Aftercare.’ Crystal said, her voice muffled as she buried her nose in the wispy hairs at the nape of Gigi’s neck. ‘You are sleeping here, aren’t you?’

‘With you?’ Gigi asked, her alarm ringing through her voice even as her neck gave in to the warmth of Crystal’s touch.

‘We’ve had sex twice.’ 

‘I...I know.’ Gigi bit down on her lip, eyes flicking up to the door that someone had thankfully closed on their hurried way in. What the fuck am I doing?

Crystal placed her chin in the well of Gigi’s clavicle, breath softly tickling her cheek as she spoke.

‘I know you’re not good at this sort of thing.’ Crystal sighed, either with content or exasperation, Gigi wasn’t sure she knew the difference.

‘What? Staying after sex?’ _You know exactly what she means._

‘Well, you did immediately request to spend the night with me after we hooked up earlier.’ Crystal giggled into her freckled shoulder.

‘That was circumstantial!’ She protested.

‘So you think you’re not good at it?’

Gigi squirmed uncomfortably. 

‘I know I’m not good at it.’ She whispered.

‘Is that why you’re cross-country road-tripping for hookups?’

‘What?’ Gigi spluttered.

‘Oh come on. Are you telling me there’s not a Crystal Methyd in every city?’

Gigi almost laughed at that, feeling a kind of sick resignation spread across her skin. 

‘I promise you, there’s not a Crystal Elizabeth Methyd anywhere else.’ As much as she cursed herself for letting it slip, she knew it was true. And as Crystal hummed in satisfaction, pulling her closer, flicking a light off for the night, she exhaled, letting the truth leave her body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say, I wrote this before the drama came out about the Get Dusted squad. I'm not a Black American, so it's not my place to forgive or excuse, but I personally am satisfied with their apologies/ the context and circumstances, and will be continuing this fic <3
> 
> thanks for reading ! feel free to comment, I love to hear what yall are thinking. Again, I'm @rpdr.is.a.plague.and.im.a.rat on insta :))


	3. Everything is Bigger in Atlanta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah gosh it's been forever! hope yall enjoy 7k of lesbian bullshit :)

Gigi woke up in a cold sweat. She knew this feeling intimately, and yet the contradiction of bone-chilling fear and a warm body wrapped around her own felt so incongruent, so impossible. She was disorientated—she didn’t make a habit of sleeping over after a hookup. She let her mind wander, still dizzy with dream—would she be welcome here again, in their blue and pink and purple and green living room, laughing with her friends, returning to peg Crystal down? She felt like she could do it again. She wanted to. 

She shook her head slightly, neatening the mass of sexed-out brown hair framing Crystal’s peaceful face. She had to keep moving— _no matter how homely and welcoming and addictive Crystal is. Had been._

Crystal had buried herself in her neck, shirking her big-spoon duties in favour of intertwining her legs with Gigi’s longer pair. She was murmuring some incoherent sleep-speak, lips fluttering at Gigi’s jugular. She felt bitten, turned. She imagined Crystal in her veins, a neutralising agent that calmed her frayed nerves; her instinctual urge to slither out of her tan warmth and into the cold, metallic monster of the RV. Not that she had ever tried meth.

‘Buenos días…’ Crystal was saying, more to the perfect stretch of Gigi’s neck than anyone else. 

‘Hi.’ Despite herself, Gigi felt her treacherous mouth spread into an involuntary grin. Crystal looked so...angelic, plump lips parted, hair untamable, looking up at her like she was God’s lesbian gift to Earth. If God gave lesbian gifts. 

She wanted to see Crystal pout, wanted to test setting off a wounded note in her almond eyes, only to comfort her again, see her light up. She wanted to see Crystal incandescent; as she had been last night glittering on stage, shining amongst her friends, glistening in her own bed under Gigi. She got up.

Gigi shook her hair out, smiling to herself at the weak whine Crystal emitted, curling into the remnants of her warmth. 

‘You can wear somethin’ of mine.’ Crystal groaned into her pillow.

Gigi turned around, alarmed. She felt conspicuously naked.

‘Unless you want to go out with me in that button dress thing.’

‘I—’

‘With the pockets.’, Crystal interjected as if it was a very important detail.

‘I’m going out with you, am I now?’ 

Crystal nodded fervently, sitting up now, hugging a bundle of sheets to her bare chest. 

‘I dreamed about asking you about it and it went realllllly smoothly.’ She fruitlessly blew a stubborn weft of frizzing red hair out of her face.

Gigi could feel it rising now, her chest protesting the concept of a faltering conversation across a table in a too-loud coffee shop. There was no harm really, she reminded herself, in indulging Crystal. After all, wasn't that her job? In fashion and the S&M scene, she was paid to sell fantasies, pedal stories. Gigi thought she could manage it, as long as Crystal would smile at her like _that_. She could manage, prolong the eventual stab of rejection, the inevitable disappearance. For her. _I can do this._

Gigi let her words lurch from her lips on inhale, approaching the incline of hesitation in a head-on collision. 

‘Where did we go?’ 

Crystal closed her eyes. ‘We went bowling.’

_She sounds completely serious—_

They did. Her friends and Dahlia had been the main catalysts, of course, practically shoving them out of the house.

‘Are you sure you’ll be ok alone with them? You’ve only just met.’ Gigi had quietly asked Dahlia, in what was _not_ an ‘excuse’ but merely genuine friendly concern.

She had almost shrieked her response, abandoning all discretion in typical excited-Dahlia fashion, pushing her out the door as she replied: ‘For fucks _sake_ that is such a reach. Go. Get out of my sight, for real.’ 

Crystal had come down minutes later, a pink chunky glitter along her cheekbones that shifted to green as it caught the light. Gigi was able to observe this phenomenon as the head of bouncing red curls turned to look at her in a borrowed dress. The feel of the pink vinyl, boning cupping her breasts modestly, reminded her of the secure feeling of Crystal’s body around hers, clinging and gripping. She looked up from behind the fuchsia sunglasses Crystal had insisted on accessorising with—she had compromised on the six pearl necklaces—and watched that smile spread. She thought about offering Crystal’s smile up for consideration as the eighth wonder of the world.

‘That looks so much better on you.’ Lux had piped up from behind a stack of blueberry pancakes. _Did she make pancakes just for herself?_ She was wearing a peach nightgown, a lacy collar that must be entirely uncomfortable to sleep in flopping over her shoulders. Dahlia was curled up on the couch with Daegan like they’d spent the night there scrolling through their phones and cackling. It was surreal, Gigi felt...homogenized. She looked up at Daya, standing at the stove, unease bearing on her thin brow as she stared right through her. Gigi turned to see what was worrying her, but she was met with Crystal’s unshakable grin.

‘Daya have you fucking burned something?’ Daegan’s screech cracked the moment like a mirror. 

‘Fuck!’ Daya spun around, pulling some long-incinerated pastry from the oven. It steamrolled across terracotta tiles, stuffing the room with smoke. Coughing clanged through the kitchen. The cats howled. An alarm lamented somewhere above the dining table, sending ear-piercing wails through the morning peace. Smoke filled Gigi’s lungs with the truth of her foolishness, cutting through her bliss. She bit down on the inside of her cheek, hard. She had been carried away with some domestic fantasy. _Frivolous. This is the last time I’ll see her_ she added vindictively, just to twist the knife further between her ribs. The vinyl was sticking against her skin as she overheated, the sting of smoke creating shallow wells of tears at the corners of her eyes. 

She continued to push down a lump in her throat the whole car ride over. _It’s just the smoke._

‘I’m really sorry about that. Daya’s usually an entirely...adequate cook.’ Gigi avoided Crystal’s gaze in the rear-view mirror. 

‘It’s ok.’ Gigi replied, tapping the corner of her eye with a short-nailed finger, drawing it away to find the watery pigment of her liner. She knew her tone was unnecessarily clipped. It wasn’t Crystal’s fault that the incident had left her so shaken, that she seemed to internalise any misfortune as evidence of her fraudulence. Guilt pooled in her stomach as she fought to keep tears pooling her eyes. She was probably overtired, hungover...something, because this was some overreaction. But she felt so overwhelmed—she wanted to run, roll out of the car and onto the road, drive straight back to sunny, superficial LA. She felt the weight of responsibility, of expectation. She wished she wouldn't have to let her down this time. She knew she would.

Suddenly, Crystal pulled over violently, skidding against a curb. Reminded suddenly of the story of Crystal nearly flipping over a van to spare an opossum, Gigi screamed.

‘Crystal what are you—’

‘Are you ok?’

‘I…’ Maybe the smoke had permanently fucked her lungs, she thought savagely, as the air in the car seemed to shrink from her. Gigi knew the effort of speaking would be too much, she would let these tears spill, or worse—she would say something venomous, something she didn't mean just to get herself out of this car, get Crystal’s piercing eyes to stop searching determinedly in hers.

‘Just because...bowling is like, really important to me.’

‘I—what?’ Again, the unexpected. 

Crystal held the moment for a second before she descended into giggles. Gigi rolled her eyes, drawing a scoff, but felt the infectious rumble of the other woman’s laugh. Crystal grabbed her arm to steady herself, and soon, Gigi was laughing completely disproportionately. Hysterically—palming the corners of her eyes, feeling the tension leave her body like Crystal had turned a valve and let Gigi's pent up nerves about this _date_ evaporate.

‘Better?’ Crystal asked quietly, holding that eye contact. 

Despite herself, despite her erratic nails clutching the passenger door’s handle, despite the eyeliner she knew must be trickling to her temples, Gigi nodded. 

Impulsively, Crystal leaned over and kissed her, quickly, on the cheek. Gigi, reflexively, jolted backwards.

‘Sorry, you just…’ Crystal set the car back on the road. ‘You look so cute when you laugh.’

Gigi shook her head in disbelief. She hated the contortions of her angular face in glee. She wanted, not for the first time in the past few days, to pry her way into Crystal’s head, to see through her eyes and believe whatever was making her so enthusiastically interested in her, so unfailingly complimentary, so comfortably _enamoured._

‘Strike!’ Crystal yelled, bobbing up and down excitedly, pointing a ring-adorned finger gleefully at the end of the alley.

Gigi had unfortunately failed to mention her complete lack of coordination, ruefully looking up at the scoreboard. She liked to win, and it was downright audacious for Crystal to beat her like this. She stared down at Crystal’s strong hands, zoning in on the way she twisted her rings around her fingers as she spoke. Vaguely, Gigi registered some words being said.

‘Are you staring at my hands?’

Gigi shrugged. ‘They haven’t been inside me yet.’ As the words left her mouth, she blushed fiercely. _Yet?_

Crystal reached out at that, pulling Gigi’s delicate hand from her careful clasp. 

‘Are you always thinking about sex?’ There was no particular judgement in Crystal’s tone, she seemed genuinely...curious. She was so matter-of-fact. That, or she was a damn good actress. Some cloying part of Gigi clamoured for an explanation. _She thinks I’m disgusting and perverted. I may as well lean into it, show her exactly what she’s getting—_

‘Around you.’ Gigi said, automatically.

Crystal’s face seemed to set. 

‘Have you done this before?’ She was so soft, so measured, radiating a warm glow of understanding. It felt too kind to be true. Gigi clenched her jaw.

‘Bowling?’ She squirmed against the fake leather of the booth, vinyl against vinyl. ‘Clearly not.’ She gestured at the neon scoreboard glowing above their heads, faltering as Crystal’s unresponsiveness.

‘A date.’ Crystal squeezed her hand as if it was ok; as if she could talk about it all in this 80s themed bowling alley in Springfield, Missouri.

‘Of course.’ And she had. She thought about Rosy, about those long summer days and longer sessions in bed. Roller-skating, fighting in a Denny’s, ringing a disconnected number from her tiny apartment. Her hand felt limp and lifeless and _trapped_ in Crystal’s.

‘How does this feel?’ Crystal enveloped her hand again. 

‘Hot.’ Gigi admitted. She could feel her own hand clamming with nerves.

Crystal giggled. Gigi felt uncertain. She was so used to leading. She felt like she was moments away from slipping up, from saying something that would get a bowling ball hurled at her head. 

‘How about this?’ Crystal slid around the booth far more gracefully than Gigi could have in her pale pink vinyl. She felt frozen in place by friction. She wound her free arm around her waist, rings catching the neon bars of the alley's ceiling.

‘Warmer.’ Gigi stiffened, apprehensive.

‘What about this?’ Crystal looked up at Gigi, licking her lips. _Does she expect me to take her here, now?_

Unexpectedly, she rested her head on Gigi’s shoulder, sighing quietly. 

They sat like that for a while. Gigi had watched the clock at first, trying to ascertain through the centuries-old, infallible miracle of human engineering that was analogue time how many seconds were supposed to pass before she made a move. Slowly, the more compelling indicator revealed itself to be Crystal’s breathing. Each rise and fall of her chest caused her chaotic mix of beaded necklaces to shift and click together. Gigi could feel herself thawing at the warm contact. Settling around Crystal’s frame instead of the unrelenting rod of her own spine, fashioning herself to the other woman’s soft suggestion of a grasp.

‘I’ve been on a lot of dates. A lot of first dates, at least. The pool of artsy lesbians here is...well, it's not as small as you might imagine, but small.’ 

It felt like an invitation.

‘Is this another first date, then?’ Gigi knew she was being overly harsh. But it was entirely necessary to keep this sort of thing from discussion, from dissection. She felt like Crystal could see her open cranium.

‘I don't know what this is.’ Crystal shrugged against her, leaning in further as she had on the couch last night after they had smoked; before they had—

‘I have too.’ Gigi said quickly. ‘Not a lot of first dates. Just...a lot with one person.’

‘Like a girlfriend?’

The premise caught in Gigi’s throat. ‘Yeah.’

This was the part where she was supposed to start prying. Gigi wondered vaguely what lie she’d tell about Rosy this time. Was she an international student, zipping back to Scotland just before things could get serious? Or a cheater, disappearing from Gigi’s life on a fateful night. Or even—

‘I’m really comfy.’ Crystal murmured

‘I...I’m rather comfortable too.’ 

‘Good.’ Crystal twisted her neck to look up at Gigi, gently rubbing her knuckles with the soft pad of her thumb. ‘I want you to feel snug with me. Snug as a bug in a release and capture program.’

Gigi snorted. But she did. It felt like an introduction. The closest thing she could compare it to was something altogether platonic, but...something more. She felt like Crystal had forged a metonymy of intimacy—something warm and soft and unassuming. Something entirely polar from the forest fire of sobbing and fucking and sobbing again that she had come to know. 

‘What were you like as a child?’ Gigi let it slip, let it go from formation in her thoughts to the formation of her tongue, let herself be curious.

‘Gay.’ Crystal said. ‘And weird. I think my preschool teacher called me ‘confusing and confused.’’ She was stroking Gigi’s waist now, absentmindedly strumming her fingers against the vinyl stretched across the peaks of her hip bones. Gigi couldn’t see her being anything other than this confident, radiant red-head.

‘What about you, Miss Goode?’

‘Quiet. Shy. I didn’t have many friends growing up. Not until I was...more me, you know?’ It felt like a stupid answer, cliche and overdone. _Can a whole life story be overdone?_

‘Gayer?’ Crystal seemed completely earnest as if genuinely clarifying.

Gigi smiled. ‘Exactly.’

Another unmarked round of Crystal’s breathing passed, unwatched by the clock; stretching itself around their conjoined forms, cloaking them from the few other Saturday-afternoon bowling alley patrons. Gigi could feel it rise in her, that urge to divulge, to let Crystal drift across the expanse of her better judgement. She felt so safe, here, in their time-warp. 

‘I didn’t know your first relationship wasn’t supposed to last.’ Gigi almost whispered, as if inviting Crystal to pretend it had gone unsaid. 

Instead, she turned to look at her intently, that burning eye-contact softened to cast comforting spring-time sunlight on Gigi’s alabaster cheeks. 

‘I thought...I was out, and everything would be fine.’ She knew she was probably supposed to be returning the stare, but it felt like too much. She didn’t know about souls, but she felt like Crystal was harnessing some interdimensional magic to rouse hers. She closed her eyes and let her eyelashes flutter in the warmth. She let the words tumble out. 

‘I thought that all those weird, one-sided interactions I entertained with guys would...vaporise. All those awkward dates and offhand remarks and drunken parties. I didn’t know it could be just as...I didn’t know a girl could—you know. I just thought she would be able to, like, decontaminate me. Like she could burn off my impurities and crystalise with me for...for forever. It’s really dumb.’

‘No, no it’s not, Gigi.’

Gigi squeezed her eyes shut. She wasn’t crying in a bowling alley. 

‘Look at me.’ Crystal’s voice was soft but firm.

Gigi shook her head, slightly, impetuously. _Why am I being so difficult? This day is supposed to be about pleasing her._

Crystal let out a soft sigh. She propped herself up, pressing her lips lightly to Gigi’s cheek. Gigi felt her sternum shatter like glass at the gentleness of the gesture. She felt spurred, propelled the unfathomable inches towards Crystal’s lips. 

She wasn’t making out in a bowling alley. She clutched Crystal’s keys from the table. 

‘Fuck.’ Gigi pulled a pair of sunglasses out from under her, tossing them to the back seat as she leant over, making Crystal take her tongue. It was raining now, and grey beat at the car's windshield and roof, thrumming with the fast pace of Gigi’s pulse. If it hadn’t been for the frizzing tips of Crystal’s hair that Gigi now wound her fingers in luxuriously, she could've sworn they had repelled the rain altogether. 

Crystal let out a soft moan as Gigi tilted her head back, advancing almost to her lap as she lurched over the glove compartment. A dried rose swung from the rearview mirror, crinkling as it brushed her ear. Gigi decided, at that moment, she was going to make all Crystal’s car something she would preside over in the other woman’s memory, forever hot and sweet. She pushed Crystal’s head against the fogged window, marvelling at how she just _let_ her in, willing like dripping honey. Her hands found the swell of Crystal’s breasts under her motorcycle jacket, more caressing her than anything, making it gentle and slow, kneading the moans from her burning body.

They were making out in a car like teenagers, and they were pulling apart to laugh, and Crystal’s eyes were shining. And Gigi knew as she heard the rattle of Crystal’s necklaces and smelt the cinnamon behind her ears—she didn’t want to leave. 

Once they’d made it back to the house, Gigi had cleared her head. By sunset, Daegan was helping Dahlia call an uber. At six o’clock, Gigi was standing under an awning of an auto-parts warehouse, watching the rain violently hit the concrete. Half an hour later, she was inhaling the exhaust smoke of their RV, hugging herself in the passenger seat while Dahlia swerved her way to Atlanta, Georgia. 

Crystal had given her a slow kiss, an ugly but sentimental necklace and some fruit snacks for the ride. The pink vinyl outfit, imbued with all of Crystal’s warmth it had conducted, hung in a closet in Springfield, Missouri. 

Dahlia had asked about the date at first, but Gigi had feigned boredom. She was fairly sure Dahlia hadn’t bought it, but she had gotten the message. Don’t bring up Crystal.

And still, Dahlia managed to betray her—she had obviously given one of Crystal’s friends her contact details because Gigi started getting texts. Sweet, compassionate, enthusiastic, _unbearable_ texts. The easiest thing to do was delete them before she opened them, banish them into the ether of binary code. Instead, she left them on read, her stomach churning and eyes blurring. 

Almost three weeks later, she sent her first reply. 

The drive with Dahlia had been like any other—showing each other their Bumble matches, scrolling through Instagram, taking turns making two-minute noodles in the 70s kitchenette. Crystal's presence was invisible, conspicuous in its absence. Gigi simply talked around it.

It had been a relief to arrive in Atlanta. Heidi had come to the door, wearing a sweet sundress and yelling at Aiden to help with the luggage—‘My delicate hands!’. Heidi was a long-term friend of Dahlia’s, and ever since she had moved out to a bigger city to stay with her wife, Gigi had been able to see her more frequently. Their love story was remarkable. Gigi knew she didn’t believe in soulmates, but there was something poignant about opposites attracting, about two quiet, sweet lesbians living a small-town life. They bickered, they held hands for no reason, they bought each other clothes, they listened with their whole bodies. Gigi knew she was too fucked up for that kind of love. Still, it was nice to watch. 

It had taken a while for Dahlia to warm up to Aiden, but Gigi had liked her immediately. Where Heidi was spontaneous, Aiden was considered. Where Heidi was rambunctious, Adien was soft-spoken. Where Heidi was too accommodating, Aiden was firm. Where Aiden was defensive, Heidi was pragmatic. They made perfect sense to Gigi. 

The inside of their small, redbrick suburban condo was just as much of a delightful contradiction as their pairing. Horror movie posters were framed alongside sun-soaked wedding photos. Floral wallpaper contrasted black lace curtains. Country music shuffled with metal. Even though they were only a few years older than her, visiting them always felt like seeing wizened lesbian aunts. They certainly had enough cats—one black and one cream-spotted, both in a permanent state of seeking afternoon sun. It felt like a transient resting place for part of Gigi, and a sense of anchored calm usually settled over her when she moored there. Usually.

Of course, Heidi had noticed Gigi was cut up about something. On the second day, over a roast—well, what they called a roast, it was a great deal of sizzling tofu—she had asked: ‘Who are you chasing Miss Gigi?’

Gigi laughed. It wasn’t funny, not really, but she felt dangerously close to tears and chose laughter instead. Heidi had shaken her head ruefully.

‘I’d like to see you blessed and highly favoured in love again. With someone...nice.’ 

Gigi knew what that meant. 

It started to feel like an intervention. That night, Dahlia stretched out next to her on the pull-out couch and whispered: ‘You dumb bitch. Text her back.’

‘Fuck off, Dahli.’ Gigi rolled away. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘I see you.’ Dahlia continued insistently. ‘Getting red whenever your phone buzzes. I was there, girl. It was...something.’

Gigi scoffed, but she was thinking about the dressing room, the strap, the cuffs, the car. Wasn’t that electric? Hadn’t she been shocked by some force into following her into a backroom, getting high, initiating a BDSM scene on the second hookup? It must have been electricity that had pulled Gigi into basically cuddling in a bowling alley, making out in a car like she was starring in some sappy sapphic music video. Whatever current Crystal had created, Gigi thought wryly before sleep crashed into her, it had been severed when she crossed state lines.

On the seventh day, while pulling up weeds encroaching on the flower patch—which consisted of a curious mix of thorned roses and tall sunflowers—Aiden had muttered: ‘Do you want to talk about her?’

‘I don’t know why you’ve all decided she’s my soulmate or whatever.’ Gigi snapped. ‘You know that’s not...how I roll.’

Aiden raised a thin, black eyebrow. ‘How you _roll?_ ’

‘It’s nothing.’ Gigi hissed, pulling up a sunflower instead of a weed. Aiden didn’t mention it.

It was nothing. Even if she and Crystal had...something, it was now nothing. It had to be. Gigi had a whole life in LA—real and chosen family, a degree, a job—and Crystal sure as hell didn’t want to leave Missouri. So it was nothing. Like how Violet and Aqua and all the other pit stops had been nothing. Hookups, meaningless hookups. Or at least, they were meaningless now. Soon Crystal would be meaningless too, she’d fade into obscurity in Gigi’s mind, recalled occasionally with a pang of guilt, merged in the fickle realm of memory with some other red-headed lover. At least she would if everyone stopped bringing her up.

On the tenth day, she got a call. Panicked, Gigi had declined it immediately. It usually only took a week or so for someone to give up, to resign to Gigi’s vicious ghosting. But Crystal had a habit of breaking her rules. 

On the twelfth day, she broke down at 3A.M. She had moved to the bathroom with a blanket—waking Dahlia was the last thing she wanted. She retched over the toilet bowl and glared at her swollen face in the antique mirror. It felt like a fucking break up. How could Crystal possibly have wedged herself so deep in her chest in a couple of days—twenty-four hours, maybe, all up? 

She crept into the kitchen—to stare blankly into the fridge light or put on Casa Blanca or make coffee or do _anything_ to quiet the wailing in her ribcage—and received the fright of her life. Aiden was standing in the candlelight, pointing a dart squarely at Gigi’s forehead. 

‘I’m just practising! Please stop crying.’ She screamed as Aiden gesticulated wildly at the dartboard hanging from the fridge. It was too late, Heidi had rushed in immediately and, resignedly, Dahlia had trudged downstairs a few minutes later. She was never one to miss the drama. 

‘Talk to us, honey.’ Heidi said, wrapping Gigi’s blanket around her and rubbing her arms down like a fire victim. 

Coherence was beyond her. She felt her distress paralyse her throat. She wanted to say everything at once. Instead, she gulped and grit her teeth, treacherous tongue falling, languid, to her hard palate. 

Dahlia sighed over-dramatically, rolling her eyes performatively as she turned to Aiden to translate Gigi’s wet sobs.

‘It’s Crystal. She’s going through a breakup or whatever.’

‘It’s not—’ Gigi choked out in protest, cursing her tear ducts for their persistent existence. 

‘Separation anxiety, call it whatever you want. You miss her and you’re the one keeping her away.’

Heidi was frowning sympathetically and Gigi couldn’t take it, she couldn’t take the pity for a second. She wanted to tell them, wanted to explain that it was her fault, that she didn't know how to rid her body of this _charge_ that kept her up at night, that kept her feverish and raw and longing, that sparked and stung whenever she was forced to confront its power.

‘You have to help yourself.’ Aiden was still holding the dart, it’s silver glint poking out from her small fist, balled in worry. 

‘She’s mourning.’ Heidi tutted. 

Aiden only shrugged in reply, pulling a black wire-framed chair out from under Gigi’s table with a harsh scrape and sitting down heavily. She pulled out a lean cigarette. Heidi’s mouth moved in silent objection, before she pursed her lips, returning her attention to Gigi.

‘I’m not...I’m not _mourning_ anything, I didn’t even k-know her.’ The very idea was ridiculous. Gigi yearned for eloquence, for clarity. Her head was a hurricane.

‘At the end of the day, it doesn't matter, ok? It doesn’t matter how little it was. What matters is how you’re feeling, honey.’ Heidi’s big, kind eyes were inches from hers, wide with honesty.

Gigi shook her head. _Sometimes feelings are dirty liars._

‘She went to a bowling alley with her. Gigi went on a _date_ , for fucks sake. She hasn’t done that since...’ Gigi gave her daggers. Everyone knew they didn’t bring up Rosy, they let Gigi say it first. Always. Even when Dahlia was playing abrasive straight talker to Heidi’s saccharine sympathy. Gigi knew it was coming from a place of love, of course, but it still felt corrosive. Through her bluntness, Dahlia had a way of making everything she said feel true. 

‘A bowling alley?’ Aiden murmured, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

Heidi was glaring now as Aiden extended the pack of smokes to Gigi, letting her suck the carcinogen in deeply and choke on it’s bitter, unfamiliar exit. A cat clock watched her, eyes wobbling erratically like Aiden’s overnight contacts, waiting, counting the stretching seconds.

Gigi was grateful. She felt clearer, letting the foreign substance enter and exit her body. She imagined her thick storm clouds brewing to match Crystal’s distant lightning, still clapping through her nervous system. 

‘The question is,’ Aiden started, leaning back, lifting a hand to stabilize the rollers stiff in her jet black hair. 

‘—Why is she ghosting the only girl she’s properly liked in years? She’s a dumb bitch.’

Aiden snorted. Heidi shook her head, waving away Gigi’s smoke.

‘Let me give you a hepiphany right here right now. It’s never been about the girl, it’s about you.’

‘No,’ Dahlia said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. ‘I think this is definitely about Crystal.’

Gigi groaned, letting her head hit the wood of the table indulgently as she shoved her cigarette unceremoniously in the handmade ashtray. Her hair was splayed, and, just like that, she was back in Crystal’s ridiculously comfortable bed, sweeping the strands from an angelic sleeping form...

‘Then close the gap, girl.’ Heidi tapped the space between her front teeth, grinning. Gigi ran her tongue over her teeth, sceptical. 

Gigi didn’t know how to explain it to them. She felt too drained. She didn’t know how to say that she was being selfish. So deeply, unbelievably selfish—that she didn’t deserve this cottage kind of love. Instead, she sobbed. She let her chest heave until they gave up asking questions, and Aiden delicately fluffed her pillows with chipped black nails. Dahlia rolled away, frustrated. That night, at four or five or maybe six Gigi had typed out: ‘I’m sorry. I miss you. Call me.’ 

Typing it was one thing. Following through was a whole other beast. She continued to decline calls mechanically. That is until Dahlia answered one for her. 

They had been sitting in Heidi and Aiden’s gated garden, basking in the afternoon sun and drafting obscure fuck marry kill lineups over iced tea. Gigi’s phone had buzzed—she hadn’t even glanced down when her expectant limb made contact with the rough timber of the outdoor furniture.

Dahlia met her eyes, an unfamiliar, nauseating softness playing across her face. ‘You haven’t just blocked her number?’

Gigi opened her mouth, uncertain, when—

‘Dahlia, what the fuck are you doing?’

‘Hey. This is Dahlia. Yeah, Gigi’s being a stupid hoe. Do you want to talk to her? I wouldn’t, to be honest. She’s been ghosting you pretty hard.’  
Heidi thwacked Aiden’s shoulder as she snorted loudly into her tea.

‘No, she definitely wants to talk to you. She won’t shut up about how much she misses your lesbian face—hey!’

Gigi snatched the phone out of her grasp. She couldn't hang up now. It was all fair in modern love and war to decline a call, but to hang up? That was rude. Cowardly, even. Heidi was pushing the other women into the house, giving her an encouraging thumbs-up as she slammed the screen door.

‘Hen-lo?’ Crystal’s voice was faint on the other line. Gigi raised it to her ear, bracing herself for the impact.

‘I...hey.’

A squirrel ran across the lawn, disappearing into the brambles.

‘I’m…I really am sorry.’ Gigi cringed internally at the lameness of the remark. It felt inadequate. _I’m so completely, utterly inadequate._

‘Really?’ 

Without her big, curious eyes, Crystal was nearly unreadable. Maybe there was something to the whole eye contact thing. Gigi felt a sudden urge to convince her, she needed to explain, she desperately needed the woman on the other side of the phone to believe her, to forgive her.

‘I am. I’m sorry for ignoring your messages and running from your calls and...I know it’s pathetic but I just thought...you don’t want this.’

‘I don’t know what I want.’ Crystal’s voice was unmistakably harsh.

‘No, that’s—that’s not what I meant—’

‘That’s some serious mind-reading for someone that hasn't spoken to me in two weeks.’

Gigi felt like she might die. The intensity of the shame at what she had done to Crystal—honest, soft Crystal—was too much. She hardened instantly.

‘Do you want to yell at me?’

There was a long pause. The squirrel reappeared, checking it’s surroundings.

‘No.’

‘You should.’ Gigi said, cursing herself for the desperation of her tone. ‘You really fucking should. You should hate me.’

‘Is this a kink of yours? Blame?’ 

‘I—’ 

Crystal laughed down the line, the kind of laugh you let out when you’re wiping away tears.

‘Don’t...just don’t repeat yourself. You’ve apologised, sure. When you...when you get all desperate you force me to accept it. It becomes about your guilt. And I don’t need that right now.’

Gigi felt taken-aback by her directness. It was true, really. Even in a pit of worthlessness, she was demanding.

‘I—what can I do? From here from—from fucking Atlanta, Crystal.’ She was crying now. Why on earth was she crying? ‘I want...I wish I could…’

‘Yeah.’ Crystal said quietly. ‘Me too.’

A loud sigh crackled through the phone.

‘I feel like I’m not angry enough. I just—I like you. I don’t want to be angry with you, I want to be in lesbians with you.’

Despite herself, Gigi laughed. She stopped herself just short of pathetically clarifying, _you like me?_

‘I want you to show up. If you want this to work.’ She didn't deserve her. ‘You...you do want to make it work, right?’

Her vulnerability was the last jab of the stake. _How could she not?_

‘Of course.’

Crystal sniffled. ‘Ok. Ok, Miss Goode. I want you to call me. And...um, fucking text, and send me pictures of you...being in Atlanta, and smiling, and eating and whatever. Yeah?’

‘Every day?’

‘Every day. Yeah, yeah. You, for real. Do you...um, do you understand?’ 

She was so adorably assertive, exposed and protected all at once. Gigi felt like Crystal had broken her and glued her back together in the space of five minutes. It was overwhelming. ‘You’re incredible.’

‘I am a queen after all.’ 

Gigi could hear her smile.

All week, Gigi felt like a teenager. She kept her phone by her at the table, she re-read their message chains at 4am and fell asleep over FaceTime. She knew, of course, that it couldn’t last. A long-distance relationship just wasn’t her thing. But it was..nice. Fun. And Crystal was smiling again. Gigi hadn’t fully understood the concept of compersion when it had been explained to her by her trainee Mistress in LA. The idea of taking pleasure from someone else's pleasure, outside of the context of sex and separate entirely from her infliction, hadn’t made a lot of sense to someone who had spent the last three years training how to deliver that pleasure. But the more time she spent entertaining Crystal’s company, the more she thought she could live off of the feeling of making the other woman smile. Or laugh. Or lust.

Lust was still the charge Gigi was best at conducting. When that particular electricity made live wires of her arteries, she was confident. She was demanding, immovable, unstoppable. And Crystal loved it.

crys: i kinda wish you were playing with my hair right now.

Gigi politely asked Dahlia to leave the bedroom. She didn't protest, but she did offer an  
exaggerated eye roll.

Gigi (me): Oh, is playing what we’re calling it now.

crys: ?¿?

Gigi (me): You know. When I twist it while I make you make me cum.

crys: ...i feel like you’re downplaying my skill in that situation

Gigi (me): No! I maintain that you’re a dream.  
Gigi (me): I wish you were playing with my hair right now too.

crys: is this going to become a permanent euphemism for sex now because i do just like playing with your hair sometimes  
crys: wait so are you saying  
crys: you want me to play with your hair but like, sexually?

Gigi (me): You’re bastardising what could be a deliciously erotic metaphor.

crys: fiiiiiine  
crys: do you need me like i need you right now?

Gigi (me): So needy.

Gigi waited, holding her breath. Despite herself, her stomach dipped as she pressed  
send, acrylic tapping on a hot screen.

Gigi (me): I want you like you want me.

crys: you’re just saying that because you can’t dom me from atlanta

Gigi (me): There are so many things I could do from Atlanta, Crystal  
Gigi (me): I could give you orders. Make you cuff yourself while I touch myself.  
Gigi (me): Make you sit on a vibrator and scream my name. 

crys: gigi…

Gigi (me): Make it official, baby

There was a certain rush of confidence, even just typing it out, in twisting Crystal like this.

crys: miss goode…  
crys: i haven’t done this before

Gigi (me): I’m a great teacher.  
Gigi (me): I’m going to tell you what to do, and you’re going to listen, ok?

crys: ok miss

Gigi (me): I want you to put on something you want me to see you in.

crys: can i be honest  
crys: i put on lingerie about ten minutes ago

Gigi (me): So obedient.  
Gigi (me): Now get your favourite toy. I don’t mind which. Something you’ve...fantasised about me while playing with recently.

crys: wow ok ego. how do you know i’ve done that.

Gigi (me): Because I have.  
Gigi (me): You haven’t?

crys: i...i might have.

Gigi (me): Have you got it, baby?

crys: yes miss.

Gigi (me): Good. Call me.

Gigi had never answered a call so quickly. She squeezed her thighs at the sound of Crystal’s voice, already breathy. _Thank Sappho for end-to-end encryption._

‘Hey.’ Gigi’s voice was darker than she anticipated. She ran a hand through her hair. It was an intoxicating blend, being this turned on and this nervous.

‘Uh-hi.’ Crystal’s voice was trembling.

‘Did I tell you to turn it on, Crystal?’

‘F-fuck—didn’t you, Miss Goode?’

‘No. Turn it off, now.’

‘B-but—’

‘Now.’ 

Gigi heard a faint click. She felt her own wetness pool as Crystal panted, clearly coming down from the lack of sensation. She pulled a cinnamon stick from the bedside—she had taken it from Heidi’s spice cupboard for a completely unrelated reason. She inhaled deeply, preparing herself for the responsibility of the scene. She lowered her voice, letting her breath ghost over the speakers of her phone.

‘I want you to take your top off.’

‘I—ok.’ 

‘I hope you don’t need help with that one.’ Gigi sparred. Crystal let out a breathy laugh. Gigi could _feel_ how wound-up she had already made the other woman.

‘Touch yourself for me.’

Crystal moaned softly down the line. Gigi shifted, denying her own arousal. This had to be about Crystal first.

‘Talk to me, baby.’

‘Yeah, yeah...ok. I want you here so bad, Miss. I—I miss the way you fucking touch me.’

‘What do you miss?’ Gigi drawled, indulging herself.

‘Your hands. Your hair. Every-uh-everything.’

‘So I’ve realised.’ Gigi rolled onto her back. ‘Ok Crystal baby, you can turn it on now. Slide your panties off first.’

‘I’m...these are fucking wet, Gigi.’ Crystal groaned thickly.

Gigi sighed. ‘Really baby, you’re not a very fast learner. Turn it off.’

‘Fuck—I, Miss Goode—’

‘Too late baby. I’m going to go first, and you’re going to listen, and you’re not going to touch yourself below the waist, ok?’

Gigi shucked off her skirt, let her own fingers peel back the waistband of her underwear.

‘Please—’

‘Are you going to listen?’ She dipped into her own wetness, picturing—not for the first time—Crystal on her knees.

‘Yes, Miss.’ Crystal's voice was soft and fragile as if Gigi would reconsider her angelic plea. _Such a brat._

‘Good girl.’ Gigi half-moaned the affirmation, fucking into herself gently, skating her thumb over her clit in dizzying circles. 

‘I can...Gigi I can hear—’

‘Mhm. All for you, baby. Just thinking about you grinding down onto your mattress, unable to touch yourself, it’s enough to—fuck…’ Gigi was fingering herself in earnest now, curling into that familiar spot, gasping and moaning shamelessly down the phone line for Crystal to hear.

‘Please Miss, I need you to let me...please.’

‘O-ok baby, you can—fuck, you can turn it on.’ Gigi arched her back, nearing her climax.

Crystal’s desperate cries sounded through Gigi’s speakers. She knew she was approaching incoherence now, rambling nothings as she coaxed Crystal with her words.

‘I want to—fuck, come for me Crystal, come with me, I know you can. Just from the sound of me, just from imagining me fucking you—you can baby, come on.’

‘I’m...I’m getting close can I—can I turn it up.’

‘Yes baby, yes. God, I wish I could fucking see you.’

‘You wouldn’t be able to keep your hands off me.’

Gigi would have laughed if she hadn’t been desperately fucking herself to the sound of Crystal’s voice. Instead, she moaned in approval, quickening her pace.

‘Fuck—are you sure you haven’t done this before? You’re so perfect, Crystal. I bet your pussy is so fucking pretty right now, all spread around your lovely toy, I wouldn’t be able t-to..to resist, baby.’

Crystal was such a glutton for praise, her airy moans escalated wildly at Gigi’s words, the faint click of her adjusting the settings of her vibrator dwarfed by the sound of her obscene wetness.

‘I’d tease you until I had you begging, maybe tie you up again. Y-you liked—fuck—you liked that, didn’t you baby?’

Crystal clearly attempted something close to a ‘yes’, but it dissolved into breathy moans upon formation. It was so fucking hot.

‘Then I’d drink you up baby, I’d take your perfect thighs over my shoulders and—God, Crystal, are you as fucking close as I am?’

‘Y-yeah I—Miss I’m—’ Broken whines rose to harsh screams, Crystal’s fainter exclamations of pleasure indistinctly mixing with Gigi’s own, mingling, filling the space as if she was right there with her, on top of her.

Gigi came with her phone entangled in her sweat-dampened hair, trapping Crystal’s moans in between her ear and arched neck as her hands worked furiously, spurred on by Crystal’s own climax—symbiotic and perfectly intoxicating.

Gigi panted into the silence. She knew she had lost her way there in the end, lost a bit of control as she contorted at Crystal’s pleasure. 

‘Are you ok, baby?’

‘Yes Miss, I’m...I feel...yes.’ Crystal was clearly still swimming in subspace. 

‘I seriously needed that. Maybe phone sex operating is your calling.’

Crystal laughed breathlessly. ‘Yeah. But it—’

‘What?’ Dread shot through Gigi, sobering her instantly. Just as she’d assumed, she’d managed to freak Crystal out not even a week after they’d reconnected. 

‘It kind of made me miss you more. I haven’t really hooked up since you left. You...I like the way you handle me.’

‘As a submissive?’

‘Yeah, I think so.’

Gigi smiled to herself. It felt like a victory.

‘You need to get some rest, baby. You worked very hard tonight.’

‘I wish you were here.’

‘I...I know.’ 

Gigi waited all of thirty seconds. Then, decidedly, she hung up. She felt hot and cold all over, wet and parched. She yearned for Crystal’s warm body wrapped around hers, reassuring her that she was still here, that she hadn’t been off-put, that she wasn’t just there for the sex. Wasn’t she, Gigi, there for the sex? For the casual hookup? She didn’t make a habit of facetime her casual hookups. It was so fucking selfish, how she needed Crystal to need her more than she needed her. She could hear Dahlia's voice, imperceptibly, asking, _If you don't need her, why did you just beg for her over the phone?_. She'd been road tripping with her too long.

Gigi groaned into the pillow, her body heavy with dopamine but her mind stormed with intrusive, contradicting thoughts. She had _dreaded_ sleeping over that night at Crystal’s. But hadn’t she liked it in the end? Hadn’t she felt like she could do it again? Didn’t she want to? She wanted to now. She wanted Crystal buried in her neck, twisting her hair around her strong fingers, brushing Gigi’s legs with her own. She wanted her warmth.

 _I wish you were here_ , Crystal had said. Was that an invitation? Was it something crucial and unbreakable that she had missed, that she had let drop and shatter like a priceless ornament? Gigi felt consumed, transformed. She felt like she couldn’t handle herself. How had she let this become a forest fire?

As she drifted into an uneasy sleep, serendipitously, Gigi anticipated an interrogation. If she was brutally honest, she needed one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for reading! comments and kudos are appreciated :) you can find me @rpdr.is.a.plague.and.im.a.rat on insta.


End file.
